The Girl With The Fiery Hair
by HappilyImperfect
Summary: Katniss was the girl on fire. What about the girl with the fiery hair? Foxface changes her fate. Final chapter now up!
1. Mispronounciations

**Hey, so this is my first ever fan fic. 'Wooo!' and all that I guess. Please review, since all comments and advice are helpful. By the way, if the spelling seems weird it'll be because I spell the UK way :-)**

**Now enough about that, you came here to read, so enjoy!**

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Chapter One - Mispronounciations

"Medea Travex!"

That's my name. My name, booming out of the District Five speakers, for the whole of Panem to hear. And Tyranny Haylumm has even taken the liberty of pronouncing my name wrong. Great. Now that'll be all people will ever know me as, if they remember me at all. I've heard that most Capitol people have two hour memories at best. Though I'm always forgotten anyway. Or maybe not...

It seems I'm no longer forgotten to the people of District Five, as now all eyes are automatically fixed on me.

"Uh, Medea Travex?" Tyranny repeats, looking worriedly around the crowd, as though I may not have heard her. Nope, you had that one covered. But now she breaks off from her quivering worriedness, and releases her swift, emerald-green eyes onto the crowd, where she meets with her target. Perhaps it's just easy to spot a red-head being stared down by a mass of browns, blacks and blondes, but I could swear that the Capitol's enhanced them to make them sharp as eagles'.

"Ah, there you are. Now, come on up dear, there's nothing to be frightened of." It sounds as if she's coaxing out a kitten from behind a dustbin. That is, if the kitten in question is about to be pitted against twenty-four others in a battle to the death. Of course Tyranny, I think, of course there's nothing to be frightened of.

As I stare out into the sea of eyes before me, I realise it's either move now or be dragged onto the stage by Peacekeepers, and if the latter happens, I'll be sure to get no sponsors at all. Not that I'm expecting any, but I don't want to be making a scene. That goes on enough at the District 12 reaping, with their drunkard of a mentor, Mitchell, or something, he's called. It's no wonder they've only won twice.

Right then, back to reality now. Best foot forward, Menny... No sooner has my right foot left the ground, than I find the crowd of children in front of me begin to split before my eyes, forging a path to the stage steps. I stride on, wanting to show no fear, despite the seven colonies of butterflies that have now appeared within my stomach. I risk a glance backwards, and I can see the gap right behind me refilling with people every time I move even an inch forwards, while the stretch of well-walked-on concrete beckons me onwards. The Parting for the Red-Head, is all I can think of, just like that Moses-guy with the tea towel hat my mother told me about, just one of the old stories they'd pass on to keep up spirits through the disasters. And just like that Moses-guy, I know that there is no possibility of turning back now.

As I reach the steps, I pretend to be oblivious to what my near future will bring, even pretend that it won't happen, that I won't die, just to prevent myself from keeling over and screaming my head off. Each step I take is a mountain, each breath I inhale an icy wind flowing through me, until I finally reach the top of the near-insurmountable stage. Tyranny gestures with her left hand for me to join her in the centre.

When I reach her, I am overwhelmed with the sickly-sweet scent of her perfume, which can only be described as smelling like death. That deathly scent that you can sense just before a person passes away. It happened with my mother, and my grandmother, though they couldn't smell it themselves; you can't smell it when it's coming from yourself. Most people can't smell it anyway, so my senses are likely just more highly- tuned than others'. Myra swears I'm psychic, though.

Myra. Myra! I search through the crowd for her, scanning this way and that, while death-lady asks for volunteers. I can't see her anywhere - she might have run to dad by now – but no, he still stands with all the other power station workers, a few of them are trying to console him, while he just stares straight ahead, blank and unreachable. Poor dad. But where is Myra? Oh no. There she is. Her face has lost all its rosiness, and instead now turns to a light shade of green. Her body shakes wildly, as though it were just a piece of paper in the wind, flimsy and weak. I am glad for her friends holding her upright – she looks like she would faint otherwise. A few of them look up at me, and they must have told her I'm looking, since she meets my eyes now. Blue gems filled with fear and desperation. I can't leave her looking like that. I smile at her, a hopefully reassuring smile. She briefly smiles back, before our gaze is interrupted by Tyranny's outburst, as she seemingly decides there are no volunteers coming forwards. Took her long enough.

"District Five, I give you your female tribute, Medea Travex!" She actually has to look back at the piece of paper to remember my name. I wonder if that scent really is her perfume, or if she's just going to die soon. I'm secretly hoping the second.

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**Review please!**


	2. Everything's Covered

**Hey! I'm back! I know it's been a while since the first chapter, but sadly I got stuck with a load of homework :-( But I've managed to use the extra time to get two more chapters under my belt, so that whenever I release a chapter the next one's already waiting and should be put up quicker! If that makes sense :-S**

**I'd like to say thanks to my reviewers, favouriters, and subscribers! Here you are: DizzyPotter! Katniss Everdeen 74! Ellii101! Ember A. Keelty! Hipsterhana! AceAuthor! And DreamingDementor, who is the only favouriter who hasn't reviewed...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, however I wrote this specific work myself, except for a small quote taken from Suzanne Collins' 'The Hunger Games'. (can you spot it?)**

**Enough of my ramblings, here's what you came here for!**

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Chapter Two - Everything's Covered**  
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_It could be made of silk, it could be made of velvet_, I think as my fingers slowly caress over the soft couch material. We only have a manky cotton one back home, and it smells of sweat and rats' droppings. You can tell that that one is, oooo, nearly as old as my escort? It at least goes back to my great-grandfather, and has been patched over so many times I doubt there's actually any of the original material left.

Not like this one, this one feels just like brand-new.

_And so it should_, I think, it's only been sat on by seventy-three other teenagers for around... maybe three hours each? And now me. That means... it's been sat on for just over nine days in total. Maths. I'm doing maths. I hate maths. Anything to distract me from the Games, I guess.

Suddenly, the door opens. A gruff voice from outside yells 'You have three minutes!', before Myra and dad swiftly enter, sincere looks on their faces. Myra's is red and tear-stained with half of her blonde ruffled hair dried hard onto it, like it had been stuck down with glue, while dad's is a ghostly white, and instead it's his eyes that are red, swelling up the same way they did when mum was dying.

I know we must have looked at each other for some time, but the next thing I'm aware of is all three of us huddling in a warm embrace that I just never want to leave. For a moment, it feels like I never_ will_ have to leave, that I, we, can stay in our own little bubble forever, with no power plant, no Peacekeepers, and most of all, no Hunger Games. But somewhere deep down inside of me, I know that that is never going to happen, that in just over two minutes, they will be dragged away by Peacekeepers, and I will be left screaming out their names, making a certain couch become drenched in fluids from my eyes. I hold out on ending the hug for another thirty seconds, before I break off of it, knowing if I had waited any longer to do so, I just wouldn't have been able to.

"Okay," I say, trying to keep the tears out of my eyes, the shakiness out of my voice, and the fear out of my head. "This'll be hard, but we'll-" I take a quick gulp of air, before rephrasing, "_-you'll_ be just fine. Everything's covered."

"Everything except you!" trills Myra in a sympathetic sort of voice, high-pitched and almost whiny. Then she hugs me tight, forcing my legs together, since she barely reaches my hips. She really is small, even for an 8-year-old, but then I'm small, too, so if I were regular-sized, she might not even reach my thighs.

I'm about to reassure her that I'll be fine too, when I wonder why I didn't just stick with saying that _we'd _all be fine earlier in the first place, and instead changed to saying that they'd be fine instead. I'd barely noticed that I had done it at all; it was just an automatic rephrase, like when you say 'I runned' by mistake and quickly change it to 'I ran'. But I know why really. It's because I can't lie to her. Not when it's the last time I'll see her. I wish it were the last time she'd see me too, but the Capitol cannot let that be. It's their way to keep us under control by turning our district's children into monsters, whilst we watch helpless; it's like they're saying, "Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did District Thirteen." Though really, I reckon they couldn't survive much more than a week without the districts.

"Everything means everything," I eventually say to my younger sister, bending down to her level, which isn't hard, "and I'm top of the class, so I must be right, right?" Technically this isn't a lie, as I do always get top marks on most things, not P.E. so much, but I'm not the worst at it, so I suppose that's alright.

"I guess so..." mumbles Myra through gritted teeth, staring down at her feet as she shuffles away backwards.

So now I guess it's dad's turn to go all mushy on me; he hasn't said anything since he came in here. And he still hasn't. Now he's just stood there, right in front of me, staring point-blank, just like at the reaping. He's not even staring at _me, _just a bit of wall... unless if... I turn my head around, as if I'll see something where he's looking, but... nope. Just a wall. A big blue wall. Oh...

A big blue wall, just like the doctor's big blue walls. The big blue walls that mum never managed to escape from. The big blue walls that father almost sold his soul for to get mother into them. And then she died. I was there, we all were, and the doctor just let the lights in her eyes switch off, like they were nothing more than the dim, worthless bulbs that are forever dying out during our power cuts, which shouldn't even happen, seeing as we run the power plants for Panem. And her power cut was just as ill-deserved.

He lost mother in those big blue walls, and now he's losing me in these ones. Oh, how fate taunts him. I wish, yes, I do wish I could say something to comfort him, but nothing comes. I've never been good at comforting people, maybe that's why I don't have any friends, but surely, _surely_, the 'smart' girl can come up with _something_ to make him laugh. To make him smile. To make him even _blink_.

"Don't stare too hard, you'll make my hair catch fire," I say.

"It already has!" dad smiles, recognition in his voice. It's a little thing we used to do when I was little, since my hair is red as fire, or so dad would say. Maybe it just seems so because nobody else in the district has red hair, not since my grandmother died at least. Though there might be, for all I know, but I haven't seen anyone else. Some districts have red hair running through them as the common variable, so maybe somebody on gran's side originally came from one of them. I don't know. But for now, I am the girl with the fiery hair.

"Come here, little miss fire-head," says dad, holding out his arms, "come here and let me blow you out." I sniffle, as I rest my back against his front, feeling his heartbeat on my ear. I sob, feeling so secure with his arms around my neck, as he gently shushes me and rocks us both from side to side, the same way as after my first day of school.

It's not long before Myra is joining us, and we all cry together. This embrace is not like the first, it is still as warm as the previous, but has something more in it, something I cannot yet describe, something I don't know. Many might just say the difference now is in the presence of salt-water, but I know better.

It feels like mere moments before my two lifelines are wrenched away from my grasp, but just as they are dragged away I can tell they are trying to speak to me, and so I resist the temptation to scream at the Peacekeepers to bring them back, just to make sure every word is clear.

"You're- you're smart!" cries Myra as her shoulder is surely pushed hard enough to enforce a bruise, "You can win! You can! You can win! You can! You ca-" One more push and she is lost from sight forever, though in my mind I can still hear her chant. But dad can fight harder, even with two Peacekeepers going at him.

"You can win!" he yells, at a much higher volume than what is needed, "The girl with the fiery hair! You can bet on it! Smarts are all you need! Smarts and fire!" Then even he is swallowed up by the door. All gone. Done, finished, va-mooshed.

I smile. At least I know dad'll still be alright for looking after Myra. Or at least until the Games begin. Who knows what it'll be like then? But it's fine, even if dad gets in a right fit and can't work or something, they've got all that extra tessera grain I've been getting 'for a rainy day'. We don't really need three portions, but I get it anyway. Not many need it in District Five, power is important, so we likely get paid more by the Capitol for work than other districts. And if the tessera grain runs out... well, there still is the community home. At least she'd be alive there. Unlike me.

The smile wipes clean off my face, with no trace it had ever been there. I walk over to by the door and slump down with my back against the slap of cold metal stood by it.

I don't stand a chance. Smart? What use is smart if you can't hold a sword, aim a bow, do anything practical except running? Myra's wrong. I can't do it. I can't win. And I shall never see my family again. I have nothing to remind me of them, I don't even have a token.

I deliberately smack the back of my head on the grey metal (steel?), making it all violently vibrate, so that when I hear the door open, I'm sure I must be delirious. I point my head at an upwards angle and shut my eyes tight. There's nobody else to see me, I think. Nobody else who cares.

Death would be a welcome visitor right now.

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**Dun dun dun duuuuuunnnnnnn! A little bit of a cliffhanger there, but hopefully chapter 3 shall be up soon!**

**Don't forget to review, and if you have any ideas about something that should happen during this story, say that too! If I use or partly use your idea I'll make sure to credit you X-D**

**Now go press that button down there! *points below to 'Review this Chapter' button***


	3. An Unexpected Visitor

**Yes! It's another chapter! And I've got it up quicker than my first target for it, which is good :-) I hope you like this chapter and once again thank you to my reviewers, favouriters, and subscribers, including those that did reviewed the previous chapter – ILovePeeta0000, Ellii101, DizzyPotter and DreamingDementor! Now enjoy!**

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Chapter Three - An Unexpected Visitor

"Hey, I er... thought I'd see how you were?"

Hmm... doesn't really _sound _like Death. Then again...

I open my right eye slightly, only to close it quickly back over. Not her. _Please_ not her.

Why has _she _come? I know that I'd never, not in a million years, come to see her if she'd been chosen. So why _is _she here?

"Uh, Med-Medea? Are you asleep?"

Brain of Panem, that one is. But after a quick sigh to steady my nerves, I stand and open my eyes to look up at the monstrosity that is Ainsley Sash. She can't really be that big, but to me, she is a giant.

She stares at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to do something. I don't see why I should have to speak to her. Still, if it means she'll go away quicker...

"No." I say.

"Oh, good!" she exclaims. Surely she couldn't really have thought I was asleep. "Er, I mean, not good, no, not good at all, because you're going to go in the Hunger Games and die, well except I'm sure you won't die, but I mean, you might do, I mean, anybody could do, but you probably won't, except you will an-" Strange how she loses her skill with words so quickly. I let my mind unhook as she rambles on. Hmm, I wonder how long till that damp spot on the ceiling breaks through the plaster...? This'll end up being the longest three minutes ever.

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"Shut up!" I scream at her. I've been doing the silent treatment I've had practice in so often at school, but I can't let it go on any longer. I need to know why she came in here. The last things I hear from a real person cannot be 'oh, you won't die, but oh you will, but oh you won't but, oh you wi-'. She obviously had something important to tell me, that's why she came in here. Maybe I've secretly had a real friend all along. Though if so, she's been in very good disguise.

But Ainsley's angry now. Her face has morphed.

"You can't tell me what to do!" she yells, near-deafening me. "I tell YOU what to do, Orange Rod!" Orange rods are one of the ways we store electricity, to send to the Capitol. More people die from them than anything else at the power plant. See, it's because they pack so much electric into this one little rod, they're each about three fists long and two thumbs wide, which is really small compared to the massive vats they had to use before the start of Panem. Anyway, every rod contains the same amount of power that'd keep a house's lights on, non-stop, for two weeks. They're really efficient, but they pack a punch, because if you don't handle them properly they can explode. And I mean EXPLODE. This is the reason that our district is so square. The border is marked by the power plant, which goes around all sides, north, south, east and west. It's so each worker has their own massive warehouse, so minimal staff, supplies, and buildings will be lost. They needn't worry about payment for it, as it is paid back over years and years by the victim's families. This is why it is such an insult. And because of my unusually-coloured hair, Ainsley cannot resist using it as my nickname. It's her second-favourite. I wish she'd go back to her ramblings.

"You think you're so smart, don't you Orange Rod? Well, you're not. If you were _really _smart, you wouldn't be a tribute, would you? Would've slunk off, or made sure they couldn't choose one of your slips. You've got enough of them. Why didn't you just take them out of the bowl?" Ainsley smirks, dead proud of herself. "I bet you'd have found your own ones straight away, anyway. You're the only one with extras." I stare at her plainly. I don't have to take her up on her remarks. That's just what she wants. She stares at me expectantly, but not with the sweet, dimness of earlier. Now her eyes are ferocious, like tigers', challenging me. But I shall resist.

"Still, it's a shame about how you'll be leaving your poor little sister behind. Who's going to look after her when her big sis gets slaughtered, her daddy kills himself and she's left all alone in the community home? I wouldn't be surprised if she volunteers when she turns twelve!"

I'm at her throat in a fraction of a moment. Nobody gets away with saying anything like that about my sister. Not even if I promised to resist.

I don't say anything to her. Actions speak louder than words.

It seems she agrees, since now she grabs me by the hair, and manages to hold me up in mid-air for about five seconds, before slamming my head hard against the metal by the door. It's much harder than when I hit myself on it earlier.

Two Ainsleys now whisper to me, "Now, now, we mustn't hurt people, not yet, must we, Medea?" She makes it sound like 'my dear', or is it my ears just playing up? She grabs hold of my neck as her face leans in against my own, making me look straight up into her eyes. "Nothing to say, Medea?" her hands close over my windpipe tighter with every second, "No witty remark?" she takes each question slowly, letting each sound last for an infinity, "Why so shy, you sly Foxface?" Foxface. Her favourite name for me, because of my hair and the shape of my nose. But I'm not sly. Having a face like a fox doesn't make me a fox.

Just as I think my head will explode, she releases her grip, and I slump to ground. "Why not just kill me?" I croak, breathing heavily, "I know you want to. I don't know why, but I know you want to."

Ainsley pauses for sometime, before saying, "Because this way, it's more fun."

"Fun? What could be more fun than killing the one person you hate most in the world with your own hands?" I say, rather sarcastically.

"Letting somebody else do it. Because this way, I win. It's easy to tell you'd much rather die here than in the arena. You don't want people trying to kill you from all angles. You want one, simple way. And that's why I have to deny you it."

"Oh wow. How... thoughtful of you."

"Yes, I know. But it just makes sense, really. If I killed you now, they'd need another girl tribute. And as I'm so close at hand, that'd hardly be wise, would it? Especially as it would be my fault that you couldn't enter yourself."

I guess that makes sense.

"You know," I struggle to say due to the hit to my head, "I think I much preferred you when you were babbling."

"Oh that reminds me!" Ainsley's voice changes back to her 'sweet' one, being the two-faced person she is, "Don't forget to mention me on the interviews' night! We are both best friends," she quickly yanks a clump of my hair, "_remember?_" I nod slightly.

"Great!" she yells happily, now skipping away, "I'm going to be famous! I'm going to be famous!" She swings the door wide open, making it near fly off its hinges. Before it closes back over I can hear the sound of: "Mr Peacekeeper! Mr Peacekeeper! I think Medea just tried to-"

And then I drift into unconsciousness.

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I awake to find myself lying on the sofa – and chained to it.

Smart men, is what I think, before I find myself sobbing into the couch uncontrollably, until my face is as red as my hair. A true Foxface.

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**To DizzyPotter: Sorry! It wasn't a foxosaur! But I kinda wish it was :-) Unless if Medea's the fox and Ainsley's the dinosaur... X-D**

**To Everybody: Please review! Even if you thought it was rubbish! I literally do a little dance whenever I get a review or something X-D **


	4. Ivan and Tygranny

**BIG SHOUT-OUT TO MY TWO LITTLE TWIN BROTHERS WHO ARE TEN TODAY! WOOT! YOU GUYS RULE!**

**Okay, now down to business, this is Chapter 4, and just to warn you, it's the shortest so far :-( But I've written the next chapter ready for me to release some time on the weekend, which has about 1000 more words than this one :-) So here it is!**

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Chapter Four - Ivan and Tygranny

I was right. It was three hours.

I know since the time on the clock of the Justice Building says it is 4 'o' clock District Five time, as I am finally escorted out by Peacekeepers. The districts all have different times, as do the reapings, which makes it a bit hard to think about them all. But _somehow, _some Capitol nut-job's sorted it out so that the reapings are all at different points Capitol time, and then all the trains arrive with about ten minutes between each other, District 1's coming first, and District 12's coming last. Well, President Snow can't leave his dear Capitol pets waiting _too_ long for their entertainment.

As I walk out towards the car which shall be my ride to the station, I try to keep my head high and desperately hope that the cameras cannot pick up any of my dried tears, and that the redness has drained from my face. I get into the car, to find a small boy snivelling inside. Of course, Ivan Plootoff. He'll be my male counterpart for at least the next, what, week?

Ivan looks up to me as I step in, with puffy red eyes. I know the cameras have to have caught those. Was he crying at the reaping too? Yes, probably. He looks back down to his feet now, either because he's embarrassed to have met my eyes, or because he's scared of me. There's such a distance between us, him on the far left, squirming away by the window, and me just sat here on the right. Hm. I'll change that.

I budge up to the middle seat before speaking.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," replies the boy, still staring at his feet. His voice hasn't broken yet.

"You feel alright?" I ask. Dumb question.

Ivan looks at me quizzically now. "I've been better," he replies, "Yourself?"

"Eh," I say, "not too bad at the moment. But in a few days..." I do a sort of little 'dying' dance – complete with silly noises and expressions – that makes him laugh, even though we know how serious it will be. Sadly, by an unfortunate case of bad luck, my finale of flopping down dead onto the empty seat, actually ends up with me landing on the newly-sneaked-in Tyranny's lap. Quite hard.

Still in a funny mood, I say "Hello, Tygranny. It's a fine day, isn't it?"

"Get off me," she says. I obey, sitting back up on the centre seat.

She pauses for a moment, before saying, "What did you just call me?"

"Tygranny," I say, winding her up, "That _is _your name isn't it? Tygranny Haybum?" This is what everyone calls her in District Five, though I doubt anybody's had the nerve to say it up close, but, what the heck, I'll be dead soon anyway.

"That is most certainly NOT my name!" Tyranny retorts. She's easy.

"But it is, Tygranny, I should know, they say it every year at the reaping, which I _always _attend."

"Then you are deaf, child!" Tyranny flushes bright red, screaming now, "My name is Tyranny Haylumm! TYRANNY HAYLUMM!"

"Alright love, there's no need to shout," I say, clutching my right ear, just to keep up the act, "you'll make me deaf, Tygranny." Ivan is grinning on the left, desperately trying to suppress giggles. Good for him. He deserves to enjoy himself, with what's going to happen.

I think Tyranny has finally caught on to our little joke now, as I can see her expression changes. "Oh, so you think it's funny to tease me do you?" she says. "Well, I'm sure you'll be laughing when I don't bother to tell any potential sponsors about you!" I look down to the ground.

"Sorry, Tyranny," I say, making sure to look defeated.

"And so you should be!" Tyranny replies victoriously, "And budge over, I _reserved _the middle. Oh, and then shut the door!"

I obey, but only after saying: "Yes, Miss Haybum."

Upon shutting the door, I find myself being glared at by Tyranny.

"Stop it now, child," she says, "My name is _Tyranny Haylumm_. So stop."

"Yes Miss Haybum." I say.

Tyranny chooses to ignore me now, and calls "Driver! Drive on please!"

And to both mine and Ivan's delight, the drivers yells back:

"Yes, Miss Haybum!" Then the motor whirs into life.

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**X-D Like it? Loathe it? Review!**

**I wrote this all in one night, so I might have been really tied and gone into crazy-mode X-D**

**Just a little bit?**

**Wow I'm tired now too... I put tied by mistake! X-D**


	5. The Mentors

**I was in a car crash yesterday! (No joke)**

**Thanks to all you guys, I'm gonna call you the revvers, subbers, and favers. I'll put your names up next chapter since while the crash didn't injure me, or my family, the shock of it's left me pretty 'BLEURGH' to be honest.**

**But here's Chapter 5! I hope this story isn't going too slowly! Tell me if it is! Yes! I found out how to do lines on this! Now I've added it to all the other chapters too!**

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Chapter Five - The Mentors

Fields whiz by me as I stare out of the wide, train window. All the laughter from in the car earlier has long since disappeared. I wish I could rest my head on the glass, but whenever I do, it just makes it jiggle back and forth because of the speed, and I've already got enough of a headache.

What if Tyranny was being serious in the car? About how she's not even going to try and get sponsors for us? I mean, _I_ don't overly care, but what about little Ivan? He's quite cute, being young, so that could have earned him some sponsors. But now... I think I may have condemned him to die. Oops.

He's come and sat opposite me now, smiling whilst eating a bun. I don't know where he got it from.

When he's finished it, he says to me, "That was funny."

"What was funny?" I ask, sitting up straighter to look at him.

"In the car. What you did. That was funny."

Oh, I see now.

"Yes, it was quite funny." I say, "Did you see Tyranny's face when the driver called her Haybum?"

"Yes, it looked like she would explode. I had to pretend I was having a coughing fit because I let a giggle slip out!"

We're so busy talking and laughing that we don't notice Tyranny entering our carriage. She catches on quite quickly as to what we're talking about.

"I don't know what you find so funny about calling me Tygranny. It's evidently obvious that I'm not a day over twenty-seven."

Me and Ivan are both silent for several moments, just taking in Tyranny. Ivan is the first to speak.

"More like seventy."

Tyranny's reaction is so... so... well, Tyranny, that we can't help falling into fits of laughter. The funny parts aren't really what we say, it's what the reaction is.

"Well, I only came in here to tell you that your mentors shall meet you in the dining carriage in ten minutes!" Still our chuckles do not break, "And they've got a lot of work to do! At this rate, you two won't even make it past the first five minutes!" Then she darts out of the room and we fall silent.

"Are we really that bad?" Ivan asks me.

"Nawwww," I say, "That's just her way of saying she loves us!"

I look into his young face. He's too young to be put through these Games, but then again, we all are. We should all have our own full lives ahead of us!

"How old are you?" I ask him.

"Oh," he says, smiling, "I turned thirteen just last week." He looks down at his hands, "My family got me a new ball. Now it's my token." He isn't smiling any more. In fact, it's quite the opposite. He's holding back tears. And not the happy kind.

"Well then," I say, "Happy birthday. Shall we go to the dining car?"

Ivan nods slowly.

"In that case, come on," I say, "I don't even know where it is on this thing yet!"

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"So, who do you think will be the mentors this year?"

I shrug. I don't greatly care who I get, just as long as they can give me tips on how to win.

"Well, I hope that one of us gets Lillian," says Ivan, "We always get further when she's a mentor."

I nod in agreement. It is true. We scarcely ever even make it past the bloodbath when she's not helping out. I can't help thinking it's just down to luck though. Or maybe she just chooses to mentor the years she thinks we've got a chance. If that's true, then, looking at the two of us, I doubt she'll want to be here.

* * *

Wow. Just wow.

I never knew that food could taste so good. And there's just so MUCH of it! It all sounds crazy before you eat it, like honey-covered chicken and raisin cakes. Or vinegar and strawberry ice cream served with 'the finest District Four caviar'. I haven't a clue what caviar is. And I've barely ever seen the other stuff. I've tasted honey and raisins a few times, though not together. Chicken I've never had. I had a tiny taste of ice-cream at a New Years' party, though that was rather bitter. I've seen strawberries in books, and at the market, but never before tried one. Sadly, vinegar is a sight I've seen far too often, as it's great treatment for the burns dad gets at the power plant. I tried it on my tongue once and it was disgusting. But when it's like this... Mmmmm...

"Stop eating like animals! You... animals!"

My thoughts on the food are interrupted by Tyranny, lording herself over us. Normally I have quite good table manners, but I can't help myself with this Capitol food. It pains me to say it, but _they make it taste like dreams._ I'm not certain how a dream tastes, or even if it has a taste, but if it did, it would be something like this. Mmmm... dreams...

Ugh. That doesn't feel good. I clench my stomach. Wow. Could it be possible that I'm actually having _indigestion_? Wow. Now I really am posh.

"Medea, are you alright?" asks a voice from across the table, "You're looking a little green."

I look up, and see Lillian Peacewater watching me, concern showing on her face. How can she let herself care? How can she give herself the privilege of showing emotions, maybe even feeling them too? How can she cope, helping children every, well, _nearly_ every year, only to see them die before her eyes later on? A thought crosses my mind. _Maybe that's why Lillian only ever mentors when the kids have a chance. So that she can allow herself to hope, but only when it is there. _But then why has she chosen to mentor this year? I'm nothing special, and as for Ivan, I do love him, but he doesn't exactly _look_ a stronglad. Perhaps the other mentors have finally made their stand against her.

Speaking of other mentors, Lillian's colleague is slumped up against the window to her right, his legs splayed out (I can tell because he keeps kicking me from under the table) and his head leant hard on the window. It seems Lillian has noticed him doing this, since now she yells, 'Saint! Don't do that! You'll cause yourself an injury!' His name is quite ironic, really. If he's won the Hunger Games, then he most definitely wasn't a saint.

Saint sits up now, smiling. "I eat now?" he asks in a slurred voice. Of course. I forgot he's an alcoholic. And right now, he's very drunk.

"Yes, if you like," says Lillian in a soft, encouraging voice. I wonder why. I would probably have just said it with a bit of edginess.

Saint dives into a plate of, well, something smothered with cream. And we might never know exactly what _was _on the plate now, as Saint has managed to get it stuck onto his face. As he sits up, it still doesn't come off. Me, Ivan, and Lillian just look at each other, before we all burst out laughing, and, by the sounds of it, Saint's laughing too. Since becoming tribute, I think I've laughed more in one day than I ever have before, by a mile. Funny how things turn out.

"Right!" Tyranny shrieks, "I've had enough of this! You're animals! All of you!" She points at each of us in turn, starting with me, as she speaks, "You, laughing at me! And then you, coughing in my face! You, well, you're just drunk! And even you're no better, encouraging them! And your manners are all simply appalling! Appalling! You'd think I work in a zoo!" Then she storms out of the room and we no longer have to see her, or her electric blue heels. For now at least.

"Miserable old hag," says Lillian, "She's about seventy, you know." For some reason, it seems strange coming from her. I'd always thought she was quite old, really, I guess because of her hair, which is white as, a, er... really white thing. But now I study her face carefully, and see that that cannot be the case. She must only be in her mid-thirties at the oldest. Maybe she's just wearing a wig?

"Yes," I say.

"Yes?" asks Lillian.

"Yes, I'm alright," I reply, "But I don't think Saint is."

He looks like he's having a fit, and his arms flail all around, yet he doesn't have the sense to pull the plate off his face. Lillian does.

"What am I going to do with you?" she asks him after yanking the plate off, though he is much more interested in attempting to lick the cream off his face. He laughs, then plants a scoop of the foamy mixture onto Lillian's nose. I think it's possible that he might not be entirely right in the head, as well as being drunk.

Something's just occurred to me. We don't even know who's mentoring who yet. And if I got the choice between Lillian Peacewater and Saint Coles, I know who I'd choose. But of course, we don't have that choice. The mentors decide whom they'd like to teach 'the tricks of the trade' to, so to speak.

Once Lillian has partially wiped, partially licked, away the cream from her face, she addresses us.

"Right," she says to us, "I suppose that by now you're wondering who it is each of you shall be mentored by." She read my mind. "So, in order to decide this," she looks over to Saint then back to us, "we're going to have our own little reaping!"

How... interesting.

* * *

"Are you ready?" asks Lillian.

Yes. Duh. We've been ready for half an hour. Why couldn't we have done rock-paper-scissors or something?

Lillian dips her hand deep into the now near-empty fruit bowl with her eyes closed. There is no longer fruit there, now there lay just two slips of paper, with mine and Ivan's names on them. I wish Lillian wouldn't make such a fuss about this. Even Saint's bored, though that could be due to the lack of any cream for him to dunk his face in.

Lillian pulls out a piece of paper, opening it dramatically.

"And the tribute that _I_ shall be mentoring is..."

* * *

**Cliffhanger! X-D When I had the ideas for the mentors in my head, I honestly had no clue which one she was going to get! :-0 Do **_**you?...**_

**Review :-)**

**And don't forget about sending names for unnamed tributes from the author's note I removed:**

"Soooooooooooo, if you're interested, you can just send it in a review, or PM me it or whatever, and if you want them to be from a particular district, say that too. Oh, and I guess we could do surnames for existing characters too. If you guys submit, you'll most likely get your invented name included, and likely in your preferred district, too."

**I hope to have chapter 6, which shall include the names, up on Friday or Saturday. Thanks to you people who have already sent names! :-) I love you all**


	6. Avoxes and Tributes

**Yay! A new chapter! It's the longest so far, so I'll leave my note till the end :-) Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Six - Avoxes and Tributes

It won't be me. It won't be me. It won't be me.

"Medea Travex!"

Oh. It's me. Choice of two and I got it wrong. Right. Now what? I'm quite pleased if I'm totally honest, but I can't celebrate or anything, since I'm pretty sure Ivan would have had his hopes up for Lillian too. It would be cruel to rub it in his face like that. So instead of acting ecstatic like I really am, I decide to play it cool. At least, I hope I'm playing it cool.

"Oh," I say, "Then I guess we're partners, partner." I attempt to shake hands with my new mentor over the table, but I can't quite reach. So then I try it standing up. And I still can't reach. Eventually, I end up clambering over Ivan, then walking over to her, before giving her hand a good jolt.

"I'm tired," I say in mid-yawn, to no-one in particular, "I think I'll go to my room, now. I'll watch the reapings in there." Without another word, I turn right to go.

"Medea!" Lillian shouts, "You're going the wrong way!"

"I know!" I lie, not looking back, "I'm just taking the scenic route!"

* * *

Bloody hell. How long is this train? It must have been ten minutes of non-stop walking at least by now, and I still haven't reached the end. How come I seem to be the only person capable of getting lost on this thing? How much room do five people and a few staff need? Not this much, surely.

This part of the train doesn't look as... refined as the earlier parts. Whereas before, all the doors seemed to be made of fine, polished oak, here, the doors' wood looks rough; it's rotted, and must only be made of the cut-offs of trees, the ugly bits that nobody would want in their home. The lights here are dim and faltering, flashing off and on every so often. It smells too, of damp and ugh, who knows what else? Surely nobody could live here. Maybe this is a part of the train getting refurbished?

Suddenly, a person appears from behind one of the doors, and I stop immediately on the spot. It's a woman who looks, maybe about nineteen? She wears an outfit much like the one I barely remember putting on from my train room's wardrobe, a sort of white tunic. But that's not what draws my attention so closely to her. It's her hair. As red as fire. Just like mine.

"Hello!" I say to her, and she seems shocked when I say it, as if she didn't think I'd be able to speak to her at all. She says nothing in return. Perhaps I've scared her?

"Come on," I say to her, stepping slowly forwards, "I don't bite, you know!" The woman backs away, looking terrified.

"What are those noises out there?" snarls a man's voice from the room the woman came out of, "What's going on?"

It's not long before he bursts out, looking all around him, and of course he spots me.

"What are you doing out?" he yells, coming so close to my face that a shower of spit rains down on me, "Get back in with the others!"

He's scary. So I do as he says, assuming by 'others', he means Ivan and Saint and that lot, so I go in the opposite direction to where I've been walking.

"Wo, wo, wo! Where'd you think you're going?" Confused, I turn back to face the man. He points to a door on my right. But that's not...

I try to explain to him about who I am, how I got here, but when I look at him, my mouth just seems to freeze in place.

"Get in! NOW!" The man pushes me hard into the room, so that I fall upon entry. As I stand back up to my feet, I hear the high-pitched click of a bolt, telling me I'm locked in.

* * *

They stare at me. All they do is stare at me.

There must be around, maybe twenty of them. Forty eyes, all trained on me. Ha. Trained. How ironic. I never want to go on another train in my life. Ever.

As they seem so intent upon staring at me, I decide to take a good look at my spectators. They're men and women, and they all wear pretty much the same clothes, differing slightly between sexes. White tunics, like mine. Some are tall, some are short, most are just average-adult size. But there's one more thing they have in common. Every one of them has fire-red hair.

It's obvious that they cannot be naturally like that, the colour is just too... well, it doesn't match the rest of them. I desperately wish that somebody would talk. Even a simple 'hello' or even a 'you smell funny' would be nice. Just anything to break the silence and their _constant staring_. But I can't speak inside this cramped room. I'm claustrophobic.

So I pound and pound and _pound _on the door with my fists, hyperventilating all the while. I have to get out. This is wrong. I'm not meant to be here. And I don't like these people. They... frighten me.

So I keep pounding and pounding, never stopping, not once. But nobody comes.

So I SCREAM out.

No words, just screaming. Then, eventually, when I think I may collapse from exhaustion, I hear another high-pitched click, and several seconds later, I've dove onto Lillian, knocking her straight over.

I don't know what's going on. I don't... I-I-I don't know...

And I roll off of Lillian and just RUN. I don't know which way I'm going, it's either to the end of the train, which is the reason I ended up in that room in the first place, or it's back to our part of the train, where I made the wrong turn but was too stubborn to admit it. Why couldn't I have just smiled, said thank you and swapped directions?

I run and run and run. At first I can hear Lillian calling me, but it grows fainter and fainter until her shouts are gone in no time at all. So I'm running and running, barging through carriage doors, the only sound I'm aware of is the thudding of my feet as they bounce on and off of the ground. It's not long before I find myself in the dining car again, but of course not for long, as I swiftly sweep straight out the other side.

Finding my room, I fly in and collapse onto the bed, shivering. I hate small spaces. No, not just hate, I _loathe _small spaces. They remind me too much of... well, we never talk about that incident.

I'd barricade the door right now, if I wasn't scared that I wouldn't be able to un-barricade it later. So instead, I just allow myself to be glued down to the bed sheets. But several minutes later, I am prised off of the bed linen by an out-of-breath Lillian, that now takes me in her arms and rocks me back and forth, shushing me gently, the same way my father did in the Justice Building. That certainly feels like a lifetime ago. It's a while before I can speak.

"What were they, Lillian?" I ask her.

Lillian stops rocking me and looks me in the eyes, "They were Avoxes, Medea."

"Avoxes?"

"Traitors. Of Panem and especially the Capitol. They use them as servants. After one special surgical enhancement, of course..."

"Which is?"

"They remove their tongues." My stomach squirms and my own tongue rests uneasy within my mouth. That would explain their staring. A thought springs to mind. In fact, several do.

"If they all work for the Capitol then what are they doing here? And why did they all have red hair? And why were they all in that one little room? And why-"

"And why do you ask so many questions in one go?" interrupts Lillian, shutting me up, "Well, the Capitol likes them to be uniform. White tunic, red hair, they use dye mostly, but they don't waste time if they're already red-heads. They'd fix them all to be the exact same height if they could. I don't know how that-" she points to my clothing, "-ended up in your wardrobe, but I suggest you get rid of it as soon as possible."

Lillian heads towards the door now. "Wait!" I say, "You still haven't told me why the Avoxes are on the train!" Lillian stops in the doorway, and just tilts her head back at me.

"Medea, as your mentor, I'll tell you something. You need to stop being so curious. It'll land you in trouble. Some things are better off not known." Then the door closes over and she's gone. Or so I thought. Her head reappears around the corner.

"Oh, and great running, by the way. I can work with that!" She smiles before vanishing once again. I wait a few seconds before getting up, just in case she crops up again. She doesn't.

I walk over to the wardrobe. This tunic was the first thing I saw in it earlier, and it fit well enough, so I didn't see what the problem was, but I suppose Lillian's right. And being mistaken for an Avox is not fun.

I sift through the clothes. They're all bright and multi-coloured, nothing like what we wear back home in Five. But at least those clothes fitted me. As I look carefully through the garments, it's clear as glass that none of them shall even vaguely fit me. Brilliant. But there is always...

It's not long before I find myself delving into the depths of Ivan's wardrobe. He's actually slightly bigger than me, but it doesn't show because of our variations in posture. I stand tall and straight, whereas he tends to slump over with his knees bent, except because of his shape he only appears to stand normally. Of course, I tend to observe things too closely to see them as they appear. Most of the time.

I grab a blue gingham shirt and jeans, taking their hangers with them. Ivan won't notice. He won't even know that the wardrobe contained exactly seventeen tops, fourteen 'bottoms', twelve jackets and nine pairs of shoes, excluding the ones he was already wearing. I close the wardrobe doors over before creeping back to my room to try on the clothes that I... liberated. They're a perfect fit. I turn round at all angles in front of the full-length mirror, just to check that you can't tell the clothes were intended for masculine usage. Nope, not really, it just prevents what little curves I've got from showing.

My attention is now drawn towards my face. Do I really look like a fox? It's a bit of a stretch to see my reflection out of the corner of my eye from the side, but I can just about see. My nose curls upwards at the bottom to give the appearance of a fox's snout. If I wriggle it about and flare my nostrils up and down, you can almost imagine that I'm sniffing and scouting for food. A trail of freckles runs over my nose, flowing onto either cheek like a bridge, but not going any lower than half-way down my nose. Above my freckles lie amber eyes that seem to flash and glow the same way animals' do when too much light reflects onto them. When you add all these features to my red hair that covers my forehead and frames my face, I suppose it's not too hard to say that I look like a fox. But I must remember that I am not. I never will be. Not ever. I am not Foxface.

I lie on my bed on top of the covers and stare up at the ceiling. "How am I going to survive all this?" wonders a voice in my head.

"You're not," says another.

"Yes I am," says the first, "I just have to figure out how..."

"Well, good luck with that," says the second, "you're off your head!"

"But I'm in my head!"

"Well, I'm in my head as well."

"Then why are we in the same head?"

"Because we're the same person, dur."

"What does 'dur' even mean?"

"'Dur', dur."

I sit up and shake my head. I can't have conversations with myself. It's too... weird. I bet none of the other tributes are having a conversation with themselves about the meaning of the word 'dur' right now...

The other tributes!

I reach for the remote and switch on the television that's built into the wall by my feet. It's disguised into the wallpaper before it's turned on. When it does turn on, it turns out that I'm just in time for the 10pm catch-up of the reapings. Hm. I never realised it had gotten so late.

The Capitol seal flashes onscreen, before the pictures of the first reapings pop up. There are commentators talking through how long they reckon each tribute will last, who's weak and who's strong, who could be a contender for victor. But I'll try not to take too much notice of them. It's what parts I can be certain about the tributes that I want to know right now.

In District 1, a girl with long fair hair and emerald-green eyes volunteers. Glimmer Shine, 17. Then there's a brown-haired boy that takes the place of a thirteen-year-old that looks a lot like Ivan, but of course he didn't have that much luck. Marvel Tomag, 17. They both smile for the cameras, yet make themselves look deadly at the same time.

Naturally, next up is District 2. There's a monstrous girl and an equally, if not more so, monstrous-looking boy; both are volunteers. Clove River, 15. Cato Wolf, 16. Both Districts 1 and 2 are 'Career' districts as everyone calls them, since winning is such a great honour there; the kids are practically trained from birth, despite the fact it's illegal. District 4 is also a Career district, and District 5 nearly became one too, once. But the training centre was maliciously destroyed in 'mysterious circumstances'. My father was part of the mob.

District 3, however, has never been in danger of becoming a Career district. Both tributes are reaped. Jules Kinder,16. Cuthbert Debler, 15.

As expected, there are volunteers in District 4. Silas Ryan, 16. Caspian Underwood, 16.

So now it's District 5. Me and Ivan. I watch as the TV Medea swiftly walks through the crowd and up the stage on the balls of her feet. It seemed to take much longer at the time. I listen to the commentators remark on how fox-like I seem, with one thinking that perhaps my strategy will be to be sneaky like a fox, whilst the other bets I won't last five minutes in the arena. Then they show my 'hopefully reassuring' smile that I aimed at Myra. The first commentator goes wild at the second one, as my smile doesn't appear reassuring at all. My smile is cunning. It shows mischievousness. But when the commentators see Ivan, they groan. Tears streak down his cheeks as he sobs, and both commentators are now taking bets on how long he'll live. How cruel. Ivan's a smart boy, I know he is, he could make it way past the initial Cornucopia bloodbath. I'm considering whether to seek him out right now to enlist him as my ally, when the scene suddenly changes to District 6's reaping.

A girl and boy are simply chosen, and there's not much fuss really. Reena Stopworth, 17. Jay Holler, 17. It's the same story with the District 7 reaping. Talia Greenwald, 16. Sam Rensa, 16. Then District 8. Megan Crimson, 15. Cuthbert Stewart, 17. What are the chances of there being _two _Cuthberts? In District 9, the girl tries to run away, but is caught by Peacekeepers. Sophie Radish, 14. Hunter Taran, 15. District 10 has a boy with a poorly leg that he drags along the ground a little. His name is Raven, yet his hair is mousy-grey, though it may be classed as blonde. He looks kind of... no, don't get emotionally attached. Rose Barrow, 15. Raven Tutpole, 18. District 11 interests me. There's a tiny little pixie of a girl, only twelve, whose name is called out by around five younger children, who must be her siblings, when she surmounts the stage. Then, as if just to be ironic, the boy that's chosen is gigantic. No, actually, he's GIGANTIC. That boy could well win, even if he's not a Career. He'd snap me like a toothpick with ease. Rue Fields, 12. Thresh Wheat, 18.

Now for the last district, 12. Yet another twelve-year-old girl is chosen, Primrose Everdeen. She's crying her eyes out, but just before she climbs the stage steps, another girl screams out that she volunteers, fighting through Peacekeepers. I'm shocked, as so is everyone else; I don't think there's ever been a volunteer from District 12 before, and definitely not in my lifetime. The first girl screams for them not to take the second, but it's too late, she's already onstage. Katniss Everdeen, 16. When the escort asks for applause, none comes, instead the crowd raises all their three middle fingers on their left hand to their lips and then hold them out to her in the District 12 salute. Then the mentor throws an arm around her shoulders, shouting, 'Look at her. Look at this one! I like her! Lots of... spunk! More than you! More than you!' he points straight at the camera, before falling off the stage. When the commentators groan, I find out that his name is in fact Haymitch, not Mitchell. Then a boy with ashen-blonde hair gets reaped and you can see the terror in his eyes, but I somehow know when his eyes dart to the girl, and hers back to him, that the idea of himself going into the Hunger Games isn't all that he's afraid of. He's afraid of being in the Games with _her _in particular. Peeta Mellark, 16.

I switch the TV off and try to now settle myself in under the covers and go to sleep. But I'm a bad trier.

* * *

**:-O I hope it was alright despite its length! And I just want to say that how Medea felt with her claustrophobia is almost exactly how I was when I went into shock after the car crash I was in, but the weird thing is that I was writing that part on a notepad in the car just BEFORE we crashed! :-O Freeeeeaaakkkyyyyy**

**Thanks to all you guys who gave me suggestions for names, you're awesome! Some of you might not have got the district you wanted, but I think all you reviewers got your names in there! Oh, and I know for a fact that Raven will be in here later so that's why it was my own chosen name :-) Thanks to:**

**d11olive-24! AceAuthor! CloveDiedForYourSins (now there really are more Cuthberts in the world)! DizzyPotter! And fangirlforthehungergames, who let me take some of the names (even if I've only used a part of them) from her story 'Dead Hearts'!****  
**

**And this is the end of my author's note! I hope the next chapter shall be up soon!**


	7. Terror Outfits and Stolen Identities

**Happy one month anniversary of this story! :-) Here's Chapter Seven! Terror outfits and stolen identities! Oooo, that sounds interesting let's read to find out if it is...**

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Chapter Seven - Terror Outfits and Stolen Identities

It's the opening ceremonies. Well, woop-de-doo. All the tributes stand in horse-drawn chariots, there's one for each district. Each chariot is supposed to relate to each district, as are our 'costumes'. I wouldn't call them costumes, I think 'terror outfits' would be much more suiting. Some are alright, but most of them are just _awful_.

The first chariot's riding off now, with nobody at the reins, the horses are that well-trained. District 1 wears tunics glistening with colourful jewels, their skin spray-painted silver. Luxury items all over.

As usual, the tributes from District 2 are dressed up as 'Row-men Gladie Tors', whatever they are. That has everything to do with masonry, I'm sure. District 3 is dressed as computers. Technology. District 4, seaweed, I think... Fishing.

So now it's mine and Ivan's turn to move out. Ivan's scared and shaking about, and I so wish I could hold his hand, but of course, that wouldn't be allowed, that would make us be perceived as a team, which of course, we are not. Only one can come out of these Games. And so we ride out onto the streets of the Capitol, looking the biggest idiots yet. We are dressed as electricity pylons, and our hair is spiked up high, as though we had just been electrocuted. This terror outfit really isn't flattering at all, on either of us. How did we end up with Tobias and Tabba as stylists? I could come up with a better design than this. They could dress us up as orange rods, as much as I hate them, looking ridiculous even by Capitol standards, and then sort of make it explode, to show a dazzling, shiny outfit underneath, with lights to show electricity, perhaps. That'd win us sponsors. Still, I'll make the most of this, maybe I'll still be able to get sponsors from it if I'm good. I put on my 'hopefully reassuring' smile that ended up looking cunning earlier, and wave to the crowd. A lot of the Capitol citizens are dressed to look like the tributes. I can see a few Glimmers, the odd Cato. There's even this one woman/girl – I can't tell her age – dressed like me as I was at the reaping, dyed red hair and amber eyes, with exaggerated freckles over her nose, but it'd be easy to tell she's meant to be me anyway, since I'm the only red-head in the competition. I blow her a kiss and she screams with excitement. I wonder why she dressed as me. Surely nobody really thinks I've got a chance.

I can hear more chariots advancing behind me, but don't look back, or at the screen, it'll give the wrong impression. Instead I either look dead ahead or at the crowds at all times. Suddenly there is a massive choir of shouts from behind us, and I almost don't resist the urge to look back. Ivan looks, though. He's been looking back half the time anyway.

"Med-Medea! You have to see this!"

"No, I don't Ivan," I say, smiling through gritted teeth at the crowd.

"Yes you do! It's- it's-"

"It's what, Ivan? Why can't you just describe it for me?"

"Because I can't! You have to see!"

Just then, I realise that all the tributes in front of us are staring backwards now too, looks of shock and awe on their faces. I'm practically certain that the horses are trampling someone to death when I reluctantly turn round, before I see the District 12 tributes. They are on fire! Literally! Katniss and Peeta wear all black, like coal, but flames fly off their capes, and leave a trail on the ground behind them. And they hold hands. But that isn't what gets at me the most. They both also wear flaming headdresses. The way Katniss' head-flames move in the breeze, it gives off the appearance of hair. Katniss, the girl on fire. Katniss, the girl with the fiery hair. This means war.

When we all reach the City Circle, President Snow begins his speech. On the big screen above him, I can see that the camera flicks between the faces of the tributes from each district. Peeta and Steal-a-name-niss take up around seventy percent of the airtime. She has killed all my hopes of winning. Anyone who even considered sponsoring me will go to her instead now, even my 'dress-up fan'. I can no longer be the girl with the fiery hair. I can no longer be anything. I'm just the girl that looks like a fox.

* * *

**So! I hope it was interesting enough for you! Bit short, but never mind. Thanks to all you subbers, revvers and favers! I'll probably have your names on the next chapter!**

**Don't forget to review! I want to know what you think! This especially goes out to you favouriters and subscribers who still haven't pressed that button down there! (You know which I mean!)**


	8. Climbing Past Textbooks

**Hey. Sorry if I haven't posted anything in a while, but sadly my grandmother moved on to a better place and I haven't had much time for anything. Thanks to:**

**AceAuthor! DizzyPotter! aichd13! Ellii101! d11olive-24! DreamingDementor! CloveDiedForYourSins! Julie662! Volition! Crazyllamapersonlol! Hermia Glenwick! TheShadowOfMySelf! charlieal12! leesespieces! nb1998! annaissocoollike! SienaLove! I think that's all of you that have done something since the last time I did names! Oh and anon!**

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Chapter Eight - Climbing Past Textbooks

Wow. I thought the train was snazzy, but our floor in the Training Centre... now that's what I call modern! We're on the fifth floor up in the tower, which I guess would be natural, as we're from District 5. All the walls and floors here are crystal-white, and the stairs that lead to the bedrooms... sort of float. They stay still though, so maybe there's some sort of glass underneath. My bedroom is the furthest down the hall, and inside it's about the same size as my whole house, maybe bigger. And everything comes at the touch of a button here. There's a panel on the wall with a zillion different foods to order, and within a minute, hey presto, there it is. And the shower in the en-suite is just dreamy, you program in whatever you like and it just gets to work, and when you're done you don't even need a towel because it just blow-dries you off. The first shower in my life was certainly a pleasant one. But it makes me sick to know that all of this comes at the expense of the districts.

It's the first day of training today and I'm glad because it means there'll be something to do. Since last night, all I've heard about is 'District 12 this' and 'District 12 that'. Especially about Steal-a-name-niss. It's everywhere. The others talk about it, the television constantly shows it, I've even heard Capitol people in the street shouting about it. Not that I was peering over the balcony or anything...

I couldn't get to sleep last night at all. That's why I _might _have been peering over the balcony. Not because I was going to jump off or anything, that would be stupid. They've probably got shields or something to stop that happening. But I only went on there because it smelt like home. The fumes from all the chimneys and what-not smell just like the fumes from the power plant that coat our district in revolting smell. So it doesn't smell too nice, but I'm used to it and it's familiar, so it makes me feel good. I bet the Capitol people all have some sort of injection up their nostrils to make everything have a hint of rose to them or something.

Tyranny drags us into the elevator a full twenty minutes early. Unlike when we were going up, the lift now goes super-fast as we descend to the main training room. It moves with such speed that I'm afraid I might actually fly up and get stuck at the top, before it stops all at once and sends tremors through both my legs. When the doors open, I can see a massive black room with lots of stations around its edges. Stations where we shall learn how to kill and stay alive.

As me and Ivan enter, we see that there is a white circle drawn on the ground, which shall seemingly be a circle of tributes eventually. As of yet, there are only ten sat there. The six Careers. Geeks. I bet they've been here since nine. Then there's Reena and Jay from 6, and Rose and Raven from 10. The Careers sit together, talking in a little hubbub on one side of the circle, with the sixes halfway round and the tens opposite. I decide to go sit next to the District 10 tributes, just because I don't like the way Jay looks at me. Ivan follows. If I'm a fox, then he must be a sheep, as he does seem to follow me around a lot, and to be honest, it would suit him, what with his light, curly locks. No sooner have I sat down next to Raven, than there is a jeer from the Careers' side. It's Caspian from District 4.

"Ooooooo, look at foxy, going to join the cows! Watch out she doesn't try to eat you, cows!" Then the Careers all laugh. How idiotic.

I turn to him before simply saying, "Shut up, fish." This takes him by surprise, judging by his face, but it doesn't stop the Careers looking over. I turn to Raven.

"Okay," I say, smiling, "Now pretend I'm saying something really interesting, then we'll look at them and back, then laugh like I've made a joke about them." We both do as I've suggested, and it seems to unnerve the Careers, as they turn their heads back violently and continue their conversation. "I hate people who think they're bigger than everyone else," I say.

"Same here," Raven replies, "but you sure showed them! Seems you're pretty good at manipulating people."

"No, no I'm not, well, I guess I-, well, I've never really thought about it that way, but-" For a minute, I just stop and think about it. Do I really manipulate people? Images rush through my head of times I've made people do certain things, or react in certain ways. There are lots. Maybe I'm more cunning than I thought.

"Yes," I say, "yes, I suppose I am." We talk for ages whilst waiting for the other tributes to arrive, in between a glaring Rose and a whistling Ivan. Before long, it's five to ten and almost all of the tributes have arrived. The head trainer, a tall, athletic woman called Atala, steps forward into our almost-full circle. She counts us, before asking, "Who's missing?" The Careers groan.

"District 12," they say.

Then, as if on cue, Peeta and Steal-a-name-niss burst out of the lift, obviously not expecting to be the last ones in here. They look like twins being made to wear identical clothes. They're the only ones dressed alike, apart from the trainers of course; they're in uniform.

Now that we're all here, Atala explains the training schedule and what shall happen over the next few days. I wonder what it's like to be a trainer here, teaching twenty-three children how to die every year? Is it fun? Do they receive bragging rights when one of the tributes they helped wins? I just don't know.

Before I know it, Atala's finished her explaining and has told us all to move out. I don't even know which station to go to first. What did Lillian say? I think she just said for me to go to the stations I need to stay alive. Right. Well, that narrows it down.

After mulling it over in my head, I decide to go to the edible plants station. That'll help me stay alive in the arena, after all, I'll have to eat. Naturally, sheep-boy Ivan follows, but I don't mind. He's good company. The trainer at the station welcomes us, then shows us some screens with lots of pictures of plants on them. She quickly shows us how they work. Her hands move in a blur as she sorts nine levels of plants into edible and inedible in just 54.96 seconds. I am determined to beat her. My fingers fire away at the touch screen, while Ivan does the same thing on his own. When katniss roots come up, I am so tempted to put them in as poisonous to match her personality, but I don't, since I suppose appearances can be misleading.

After some time, I finish the 'game' on the screen, only to find I've scored less than thirty percent, and in over five minutes. I knew I'd be bad, but not _that _bad! But I've got to get this right. So I try again... and again... and again, each time getting better than the last. Ivan gets bored and moves on after a while, but I stay, wanting to get it perfect. Eventually, I can get one hundred percent in just 48.26 seconds, which I'm pretty chuffed about, and the trainer's shocked to see, too. But before I leave, she tells me to remember something:

"Never eat anything unless you're a hundred percent sure it's non-toxic."

I'm sure this will be winning advice for when I'm in the arena. I'll try to stick by it.

* * *

At lunch, I sit at a table with Ivan, Raven and Rose, though Rose is only really here because she's with Raven. She doesn't actually appear to like him very much, it's just I don't think she wants to sit alone. It wouldn't be hard for just three days. I've had to sit alone every day of my school life.

We don't talk much at our table, but it's good to be able to share company while we're eating. The noisiest table is by far the Careers' one, but that doesn't annoy me so much, because it's a constant sound. What _does _annoy me is Peeta and Steal-a-name-niss' table. Or strictly-speaking, just themselves, their table isn't the annoying part. But they just lean over to each other, whispering, and then burst out laughing terrible fake-laughs. I can tell they're faking at being friends, especially the girl. She's just over-dramatic with everything she does with him. The boy's better. He doesn't over-play it, makes it look natural; he's probably a good liar, too. But I can't help thinking that deep down, they _do _like each other, they're fooling themselves.

* * *

On the second day of training, I decide to go to the climbing station, and Ivan follows, because that's just what he does. I've never climbed anything before, there's never been anything _to _climb in District Five. I walk up to a net and slowly study it. I watch Ivan climb up a rope with no knots in it gradually; he's not finding it hard, but not particularly easy either – I knew they must have been teaching the boys something different when we had gym lessons.

I ready myself with deep breaths. It's so _high_. This is where being small shall definitely NOT come in handy. I'm one of the smallest here, second only to Rue. But then again, I did see her scale this with ease yesterday, so maybe being small is actually better for climbing? I doubt it.

I grab hold of the ropes just above my head, then place my foot in one of the holes below, just higher than ground level. The part of the rope taking weight from my foot sinks more than I thought it would, and the vertical ones by it move too tightly together, so that I have to let go. I can't do it. It's impossible. And the netting stretches up nearly all the way to the roof of the room, and it's a warehouse-high sort of roof. How can _I_, the red fox from District Five, climb _that? _Red foxes can't even climb, I've read it in text-books in school, while I should have been revising on how the electrolysis of fragnosium can be doubled by adding the products of... no, I never did pass that test. But I can't climb.

No, Menny, I tell myself, you _can _climb. It's just physics. Simple, logical, physics. Without the endless parts on electricity, and chemicals, and ya-da-ya-da-ya.

I close my eyes, grasp hold of the same high ropes as earlier, and quickly pull myself up, standing my feet on some lower ropes. But that means... I did it! I climbed! I look down over my shoulder, and to my 'delight', find I'm about two inches off the ground. Well, it's a start I guess. Slowly at first, I begin to reach one foot higher than the other in a pattern, doing the same with my arms and using them to hurl the rest of me up higher. I've just got a momentum going when I hear some sort of sound from behind me, and make the mistake of looking back. And looking back means looking _down_.

I'm about three or four times higher than usual, and it's terrifying. The floor zooms in and out, my vision blurring, and I can see too much, too much. I feel so big, and it's not right, not right, because I'm the small one, but then everyone else is so small and- My panicked thoughts are interrupted as I am tipped round upside down, hanging by the bend of the underneath of one knee. The breath is taken out of me by the force of the fall and I can't think as the blood begins to drain to my head. My hair clings onto the rough ropes from static, and I can feel my top gradually folding round and falling down. How I wish I had tucked it into my combats when I had the chance.

Looking at the world upside down, it all seems so different. For a start-off, everything is the wrong way up, but I suppose that would be obvious. And it's harder to close your eyes because being at the wrong angle seems to make your eyelids heavier. I feel a little woozy, maybe from the height or just because I'm the wrong way up, but either way I manage to tightly squeeze my eyes shut.

I'm hoping I might be able to just fall asleep like this, when I hear a familiar voice.

"Whadda yah hangin' there for, little Foxy?"

I don't open my eyes to speak to him, "I'm practicing being a bat, so enough of the fox business."

"A bat? But isn't that what people call a 'flying fox', Medea?"

He remembered my name.

"Shut up."

"Are you learning how to fly? Will you swoop between the trees? Can you fly, Medea?"

"No, but you'd better hope you can for when I kick you off here. Spread those wings, Raven."

"Ha-ha. I'm laughing my head off. Have you got super-glue over those amber eyes of yours or something? 'Cause you haven't opened them once."

"Maybe there's nothing worth looking at." I say, but then open them politely, to see Raven's face right over me, the wrong way up. No, the right way up. I'm the wrong way up. "Ewww. Were you going to snog me upside-down?"

"Well, I guess we'll never know," he replies, plucking me off the net, rotating me, and then sticking me back on it, like I were no more than a loaf of bread.

"Wow, strong much?"

"Well, you are quite light."

"Not _that _light!"

"Well, I tend to rely on my arms more than my legs, what with this old thing." He lifts up his crippled leg.

"I guess you would," I say, feeling bad for bringing the subject up.

"Oh, no, don't feel bad," he says. Do I have a readable face or does this just happen to him often? "It's my own fault it's like that." Raven shakes his head, "I never should have tried to milk that bull." I pause for a moment, just looking at him, before letting out a load of laughs. The idea just seems so preposterous. I can't imagine someone like Raven doing something so... well, stupid.

"You're not serious?" I manage to let out between giggles.

"Does this face look serious to you?" he says, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes so I laugh even more. But my laughing soon ceases when it forces my legs to bolt and I only just manage to hold on.

"Uh, Raven, I don't suppose you could teach me how to climb?"

"Sure I will, little Foxy," he says, then laughs, "Let the grey fox teach the red fox, eh?"

I smile up at him as I remember what the old schoolbook said.

* * *

_Red foxes are small omnivorous mammals, though they are the largest of all fox species. They are closely related to dogs. Their binomial name is Vulpes vulpes, which just means 'fox'. A red fox's natural habitat is amongst trees in a forest or wood, or on the plains, where they will prey on such animals as rodents, insects, birds, and other small animals, but they also eat berries, nuts and other fruits. Most red foxes will live in a den, not a burrow or a sett like rabbits and badgers. Red foxes cannot climb trees or other steep obstacles, as their blunt claws prevent them from getting a good grip, like with a dog's. However, it has been found that red foxes that live in the same area as their cousin, the grey fox (Urocyon cinereoargenteus), often do obtain the ability to climb trees, as they learn from the nearby grey foxes._

* * *

I guess I'm just an abnormally-small red fox, and Raven's an abnormally-large grey fox.

* * *

**I hope you guys liked this, I know it was a bit long, but oh well :-) Don't forget to say if you have any suggestions! Now review! :-) It really does make me happy**


	9. LimeGreen to NeonBlue

**Welcome back to The Girl With The Fiery Hair! I hope you enjoyed our sponsors!**

**Yeah, not too sure what went on in my brain there, but here's Chapter 9! I have two favourite lines in this one, here's the first! :-)**

"**Five... six... wait, no, four... three... two... one!"**

**Warning: This chapter contains **_**flashbacks **_**in **_**italics**_**.**

* * *

Chapter Nine - Lime-Green to Neon-Blue

What. A. Pickle.

This time yesterday I never would have thought I'd be stuck under my bed clutching my escort's wig. But this time yesterday I couldn't even climb a bit of rope, either. Why did I have to listen to Raven in the cafeteria? I hope he's in trouble for this, too. He'd better be.

* * *

"_Fine, then," Raven says, "I dare you to steal your escort's wig and then bring some to lunch to prove it."_

"_Nick Tygranny's wig? You've got to be kidding me!"_

"_Fine, I never said you HAD to do it. I just dared you to."_

"_Hey, who said I wasn't going to do it? I'll nick my escort's wig and bring it to lunch tomorrow, but only if you do the same with yours."_

"_Deal." Raven spits on his palm and then holds it out to me. I pull a face and squirm away from it._

"_Medea, you're supposed to shake it?" says Ivan, before coughing loudly. I keep forgetting he's here._

"_Urgh. No way am I shaking that. It's got Raven spit on it." I tentatively grab Raven's index finger, and then drag his hand across his chest, wiping the spit onto his shirt. He chuckles._

"_There," I say, "Now we can shake." As my right hand clasps his, I see Rose give me some sort of a look, possibly of disgust. I keep forgetting she's here, too._

* * *

It seemed such a good idea at the time. Why?

Maybe I just wanted to impress him.

* * *

"_So Tyranny," says Ivan, leaning back on the rounded chair by the fireplace, "how exactly do you manage to get your make-up so perfect, but still rise so early in the mornings?" It's hard to avoid laughing, what with the serious tone in his voice as he speaks, but I make sure to stay silent, or our plan will fail._

"_Oh, no, I wouldn't call it _perfect_," Tyranny replies, and I can detect she's blushing, even though I can only see the tip of the back of her head._

"_I disagree," Ivan says, coughing, "It's amazing, it really is. Please, you simply must tell me how you do it."_

"_Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt... Okay! First, you have to apply a generous dollop of..." I don't bother to listen to any more now that Tyranny's in her little Capitol dream world, because I know it'll be safe to get close now. Ivan continues to look at Tyranny, nodding every so often as she prattles on about a load of old kaput. I creep over until I'm right behind her sofa, on the balls of my feet as usual; it makes me feel safer, quicker, more agile. I listen to Tyranny blabbering on about some mascara – 'highly recommended by Perseus Coratio, no less' – as I slowly lower my hands down towards my prey. My heart thumps inside my chest as hard as the wreaking ball that knocked down the nature classroom at school – they decided they needed another new power lab, and I was most certainly not happy. But if I can't handle stealing a wig, what will I be like fighting for my life in the arena? Not thinking, my fingers pounce onto their target, snatching it up, and reveal the huddle of grey beneath. I stand completely motionless, stunned a little at what I have just done, until my escort's lemon-yellow face appears, growling. Evasive action!_

_I race up the floating stairs and fly into my room. Propping up a chair against the door, I try to figure out what to do. That chair won't hold her off long, especially as the door opens outwards. So where to hide?_

_Wardrobe? No._

_Balcony? No._

_Shower? Definitely not._

_So I suppose there's only one place left..._

* * *

I watch frantic high heels race about from in my cubby hole. "Medea?" asks a rich and snobby Capitol voice, "You haven't REALLY jumped, have you?"

* * *

"_Medea!" I hear Tyranny scream, "Come out here with my, uh, hair... accessory... right now, or I'll come in!"_

_It's a good job I think on my feet._

"_If you come in, I'll jump!" I yell back from under the bed, "And I mean it!"_

"_I'll give you five seconds to come out! Five... six... wait, no, four... three... two... one! I'm coming in!"_

"_And I'm jumping out!"_

* * *

"Oh, no. Oh, no. This is the end of my career! I must get them – must get them both!" says Tyranny in a panicky tone, before dashing out of the room. She's quite stupid, really. I bet it's impossible for me to jump off the balcony. Ugh. Now my whole room smells of Tyranny's death-scent.

I'm log-rolling out of my hiding spot, when I hear an odd noise. Turning back, I see a small gap in the wall opening up. Maybe I leant on some sort of a switch? Suddenly, this gives me a great idea. Tyranny will never find it in there. I stretch to put the lime-green specimen in the space. There's something else in there. I take it out and have a look at it.

In my hands, I hold some sort of a screen. It bears the Capitol's logo on the back, and when I tap the front, the mysterious tablet powers up. A message appears:

"This tabulite is brought to you by the Capitol to commemorate the 708th anniversary of the shutting down of the World Wide Web, also known as the internet. This exclusive item contains all of the pages created and stored on the database, up to the 28th July 2057 AD, when it was voted to be 'invaluable' to the world, and shut down to save resources. Do not let this device fall into the wrong hands, Seneca. I shall always be watching you.

PS"

Hm. From what i can see, this is called a 'tabulite', it was made by the Capitol, there's some thing called the 'internet' inside and it was presented to the Head Gamemaker by President Snow, for whatever reason. Oh, and it's probably in those 'wrong hands' that Snow was talking about. I think I'd better put this back.

I roll about until the wall recloses, and then clamber up and out from under the bed. I cautiously walk out of my room and down the stairs. Ivan waves to me from the lounge, so I assume Tyranny must not be about. We both squeeze onto the large, rounded chair – which I now know spins. Ivan coughs a little as we turn, before saying, "She's called them."

"Called who?" I ask.

"Saint and Lillian."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Oh. I guess I'm in trouble for stealing her 'hair accessory', right?"

"No! It's because you jumped off the balcony!"

"Oh, yeah, that. I was faking. I just hid under the bed." This makes Ivan laugh hard, but it soon flips into a fit of coughs, so I pat him on the back to help. "That's some cough you've got there," I say, "You must've caught something." Ivan's about to say something back, when we hear the lift doors open. I rotate us round with my legs to face them. "Ah," I say, "We've been expecting you, mentors." Lillian opens her mouth in shock, before a now neon-blue-instead-of-lime-green-haired Tyranny runs out of her room, shrieking.

"Oh! Oh! Thank goodness you're here! Your tribute died early, Lillian! She just jumped off the bal-" She spots me and her expression is like that of a person who has seen a ghost. I smile and wave to her cheerily.

"We're sorry," says Ivan, "it might seem a bit childish, but we were playing hide-and-seek."

"Yes!" I say, backing him up, "And I hid on a shelf in my wardrobe, and said 'if you come in, I'll jump', meaning I would jump ON him."

"She did," says Ivan, "and I think she bruised my ribcage." He rubs it, as though I really did, "Technically it's illegal, but I don't mind. Much."

"Maybe you were sleeping and overheard us while you were dreaming, Tyranny?" I say.

Tyranny stutters and struggles to say anything, before eventually letting out, "But he was asking me about my make-up!" Lillian laughs.

"Well," she says, "I suppose that just _proves _you were dreaming, Tyranny. Why would a young boy like Ivan here ever want to know about your make-up routines?" she says.

"Well, er, because, ah, - oh forget it, forget it all!" She flounces off to her room after speaking. Maybe it was just her reactions that gave me a reason to think it was a good idea to steal her wig.

As we laugh about Tyranny's stupidity at not noticing our (nonexistent) hide-and-seek game, I can't help but notice a familiar stench. I can smell Tyranny's death-scent nearby, but I suppose she must've just done a major overdose of it by mine and Ivan's chair.

* * *

Images of the reapings flash through my head that night. A young man dyed blue with orange polka-dots reads out a girl's name. His red suit reflects pictures of the cameras and crowds in the sunlight. He reads out another name. Raven Tutpole.

The blue man's head is bald, shaven by choice, evidently meaning he does not wear wigs.

I am going to KILL Raven.

* * *

**:-O He didn't even wear a wig! So what did you think of the flashbacks, huh? I just thought it'd sound better than if I did it as one big boring thing :-L**

**Oh, and in case I didn't make it obvious, Saint and Lillian were out trying to get sponsors X-D**

**And the tabulite thing... yeah, I'm not sure why I did it, but with the whole Snow and Seneca thing with it, I'll probably link it in with something else... Maybe they're gay together? :-O**

**Review please! Say if I should stop doing my random author's notes X-D**

**Oh! And my other favourite line from this chapter!**

"**Ah, we've been expecting you, mentors."**

**And she doesn't even know she's taking the mick out of a British secret agent's series of films... Or know what Britain is...**

**:-O We should do codewords that you post within reviews if you've read the author's notes (which I have a lot of)!**

**Codeword for today: Sausages**

**Yup! I'm going to stop the note right... NOW! Well, nearly...**

**Review!**


	10. Fake But Real

**Hi to my friend Sasha if you manage to get here! You might want to start from Chapter One!**

**All you guys that gave me the codeword from last chapter get a virtual lollipop! That's CloveDiedForYourSins, ILovePeeta0000, Ellii101, pinkgiraffe10, DizzyPotter and newbie11! I made a picture of it out of lines on here, but the Doc Manager deleted it :-(**

**Did anybody watch the Jubilee Concert on TV last night? There was :-S**

**Warning: This chapter contains _flashbacks _in _italics. _Don't read if you are... uh... allergic to flashbacks?**

* * *

Chapter Ten – Fake But Real

"You'll be fine, Ivan."

"But what if I'm not? What- what-" he coughs, "-what if I'm not good at all? I'll get a one! Or a zero!"

"No, you won't," I say slowly, "just show them what you're good at. Like climbing. And snares. And er... oh, what's it called? The plants thing! You were alright at that, weren't you?"

"I WAS, but not anymore. The only thing I can remember now is that some poisonous berry called nightlock is poisonous." _Yes Ivan, _I think, _poisonous berries WILL be poisonous._

"Well then you'll just have to-" I am interrupted by a voice calling through the speakers.

"Ivan Plootoff!" Ivan's face turns to a pale shade of green.

I pat him on the back as he stands up to head towards the door. "Good luck," I say, "You'll do just great."

Ivan gives me a grateful smile, before he disintegrates through the double doors.

"Doesn't he get on your nerves?" a voice asks me. I turn my head back away from the doors, to find it's Rose that's speaking. She repeats herself, "Doesn't he get on your nerves? Following you all the time?" I think it's the first time I've heard her speak.

"Doesn't it get on your nerves?" I say to her, copying her annoying tone of voice. Pointing to her face, I now continue, "Doesn't it get on your nerves? That ugly thing following you all the time?"

Her face repulses, "Why do you have to be so mean? We're _supposed _to be allies."

* * *

_Do I have the guts to say it? Do I NEED to say it? Well, I'll likely be dead soon anyway, so life won't be much worse if this goes wrong._

"_I reckon," I start off, "that we should be allies when the Games start," my throat's gone dry with nervousness, "you know, you, Ivan, and you, Raven, and me, obviously,-"_

"_-And Rose," interrupts Raven._

"_Yeah, and you, Rose," I say, unsure. I'm not certain I know her well enough to enlist her as an ally. But I've said it now, and Raven's said it, so we all give a general nod of agreement._

"_Then that's great!" smiles Raven, "We can be Ven, Van, Foxy and Rose!" I smile back before continuing eating._

_Maybe it's wrong of me, but I feel happy that only me, Raven and Ivan got nicknames. Rose is just Rose._

* * *

It's nearly twenty minutes before my name is called. I jump up, and Raven wishes me luck while Rose just scowls. I'm walking away and nearly out of earshot, when I hear Rose tell Raven something.

"Don't trust her, Raven," she says, "she's dangerous. Can't you see she's manipulating you, making you think you're friends? She really _is _a fox, haven't you seen that cunning look in her eyes? And on TV, she had that sly smile. Why can't you see she's already devising a million ways to kill you?" B-... eetroot. Raven's reply nearly shatters my heart.

"Who says I can't?"

* * *

Nine, eight, ten, ten. Five, four, eight, ten. Anticipation and dread fills up inside me as I wait for mine and Ivan's to come up. Our hands clutch one another for support. We'll likely get average, about five. The girl from four, Silas, disappears, along with her score, and is replaced by Ivan. Underneath his chin appears a number made up of three lines. It's a five! I hug him, happy he's done alright. Saint pats him on the back, but too hard so that he starts coughing again. It smells like he's swallowed Tyranny's death-filled perfume.

"Oh, Medea, well done! Look at your score!" says Lillian, squeezing my shoulder. I'd been so preoccupied with Ivan that I hadn't bothered to look at my score, or even known it had come up. I turn back to the TV, expecting to see maybe a seven or an eight judging by Lillian's response. I didn't really think that I'd done particularly well in my private session, but there you go. Maybe Ivan got them in a good mood for me.

Under my face sits a two-sided number.

My mouth opens wide with shock and horror.

Because that's exactly what it is.

A two-sided shape.

I have got a two.

But Lillian's cheers didn't even have any sarcasm in them. Right. Now I officially have no sponsors.

"Congratulations, Medea! You pulled off the first stage of our strategy!" Our strategy? She hasn't told me about any strategy. The last thing she said to me that was even vaguely to do with that was about going to the stations I'll need to stay alive, and that really helped. What strategy is this? The 'let's fall over and die in the first two minutes' one? Lillian hasn't said anything to me, and now she's taking credit for my 'success'. Though I wouldn't call it that.

We continue to watch the rest of the scores after I've gone from the screen. Five, five, four, seven. Ooooo, seven from seven, that's Talia. Oh, I remember, she was good with the spears – I couldn't even pick them up. Now five, four, three, five. Raven's a six. I can't help but feel happy for him, despite the questions he stirred up for me with his words to Rose. She's got a four. And now the remainder of the tributes. Nine, seven, eight. Wow. That's pretty good for the outer districts, it really puts my two in perspective. Steal-a-name-niss comes up now. She's got a- no, it can't be... it's an eleven! That's beaten all of the Careers – and that giant from eleven. It's five and a half times my score. But how did she do it? Maybe she stripped for them? No... No... Let's think this through logically, Menny... you watched everyone training, so what was she good at? Hm, snares. Plants. Making shelters. She was good at all of those, but I don't think it would really be good enough to get an eleven. Images of her and that boy, Peeta, run through my mind like deer from a fire. I see them go to every station – no – nearly every station. But they keep eyeing up the remaining two. Weightlifting and archery. Right, now taking in their appearances... Yup, I've worked it out. Steal-a-name-niss specialises in archery, and her boy has the art of weightlifting. That's why their scores were so high. And Thresh's was high because he's so massive, and Rue's will be because she practically flies between those high ropes.

Simple logic. But even my logic can't work out why I got a two, or why Lillian was so pleased about it.

* * *

"I AM NOT FOXFACE!" I scream at Lillian, smashing a vase. I feel bad making more work for the Avoxes, but I just can't contain myself. I've already had to endure four hours of Tyranny teaching me to 'be a lady'. She kept telling me off for taking the tall heel of the shoe off the ground, and walking on the balls of my feet. So I can't take this now.

"I am NOT Foxface!" I continue my rants, kicking sofas, punching tables, just hurting whatever I can, so that I won't end up hurting _her. _But I do so want to.

I shout into her face now, "Do you know, Lillian? Do you know what it's like being told you're a 'Foxface' every day of your stinking life for ten, no, nearly eleven years? Convincing yourself every time that you're not how they say you are, not _what _they say you are? Since I was five, I've had to live through them, being compared to an animal, a sly, elusive, cunning, untrustworthy, sneaky, scoundering, 'evil' animal that I'm nothing like! And now I'm almost sixteen, and you're making me give in to them, and become like a fox that I convinced myself I wasn't. Well, what if I don't want to? What if I don't want to die as this 'Foxface' you want me to be? I care, I love, I have a family, I am a real, proper, person. I am Medea Travex! Hear that, Lillian? Med-ee-uh. Not this Mee-dee-ah girl you keep calling me. And you-" A sharp tingling sensation rushing through my left cheek forces me to stop. She has slapped me. Stepping back a little, she observes me. Blood seeps out of one of my knuckles from when I punched a table. After a while, Lillian merely smiles.

"You're just right," she says, and steps forward to be close in front of me again. She reaches out to my loose hair – free, the way I like it – and tucks the lengthy bits behind my ears. Walking around to get behind me, she conjures up a hair band from somewhere and ties up my hair into a high ponytail without uttering another word. I have been frozen to the spot this whole time, possibly because of the shock of the slap. She walks back round to face me when she's done, and says, 'There, that's much better.' Sitting down on a seat, she gestures for me to do the same on one opposite her, and I am surprised to see that I obey. Lillian talks to me again now, calmly, slowly, "Now then, shall we try practising 'sly and elusive' for that interview again?" I nod unwillingly.

I am a zombie under her control.

* * *

"Eat! Eat! Eat!" calls Tyranny in a rush, "We only have-" she turns to a diamond-encrusted watch on her wrist, "-five hours, twenty-three minutes and fifty-four seconds until the show starts!" We have to have our tea early today, because our prep teams and stylists shall be getting us ready for Caesar Flickerman's interviews with us. We were supposed to be eating at half two to be all primped and preened for the show at eight, but as Tyranny points out, we are six minutes and six seconds behind schedule. Oh no. Caesar Flickerman shall see his pants, I'm sure.

In no frenzy, despite our escort's shouts, I casually ask Ivan how his interview training's been going.

"Urm, well, alright I guess, apart from when Saint kept throwing up, how about you?"

"Well, Tyranny was a pain and a bore..."

"Nothing new there, then. And Lillian?"

"She wants me to play up the Foxface angle that everyone assumes I am, like I've been called my whole life."

"Don't you like that, though? Raven calls you 'little Foxy', doesn't he?"

I smile, "That's different..." my grin fades away as I remember what he said, and then what everybody else has said, "This is different! She wants me to make everyone think that I'm sly, and elusive, and cunning like a fox! But I'm not, Ivan! I'm not!" I start to sob, "I'm not... I'm not..."

An arm wraps around and over my shoulder, a strong arm. I didn't know Ivan was strong. Or maybe I'm just weak.

"I know you're not like that, Medea," says Ivan. Medea. It occurs to me that he is the only one since the reapings, excluding my family, that has pronounced my name correctly. Everyone else copied Tyranny, and I haven't bothered telling anyone they're wrong, except Lillian just earlier. Ivan continues, "So I know you're not really like that, and you know-"

"But I don't know!"

"-and you know, and your dad knows, and your sister knows, and Raven knows, so why should you need to worry about it? It's only like a pretending game."

I open my mouth to reply, but nothing escapes. Ivan makes sense. Apart from maybe about Raven. So instead of replying, I just hug him. Then Ivan coughs a few proper dog-bark coughs, and we continue eating from the massive buffet laid out on the table, just for us two. Well, I continue at least.

"Ivan! You've got to eat something!" I say when I notice.

"But I haven't got any appetite."

"Yes, you have." I manage to make him eat a few slices of melon, two and a half tomatoes, and an apple; I've stuck to fruit because it's the only stuff I'm certain of what it is.

Ivan has another coughing fit before Tyranny comes to take us to our stylists, only this time flemmy mucus comes out. It's red, but it's likely just dyed that way because he's had a bit of tomato stuck at the back of his throat or something. It must have been the tomato. Yes, the tomato. I'm certain. It couldn't be that way by any other means.

The air smells of death as we all move on.

* * *

I cough as Tobias instructs my prep team to cake me in yet another layer of dust. It consumes my body and entangles my tongue – breathing is much harder as it rains down on me.

"Why do you have to keep doing it?" I ask him, "This is the seventh time!"

"Stop complaining, love," Tobias replies, observing my naked body. I don't like the way he looks at me with those wide, artificial eyes of his. He continues, "we're going to make you look fab-u-lous! Just like I've done with your predecessors all these years." This unnerves me. It reminds me of where I'll be in less than twenty-four hours.

"There we go!" Tobias says after a while, "That's your powdering all done!" I look down at myself, and hold an arm up in front of my face. Instead of its usual pale colour, to my shock I find it to be hanging just between the balance of red and orange. I stare up at Tobias in fury.

"Why am I orange?" I shout at him.

"Oh, I know hun, it's awful," I give him a confused look. Isn't he the one that's chosen it all? "If I had it my way, you'd be lilac, not matraneen. But Lillian _was _most persistent upon you looking like this. Make you look more distinguishable, or something, like your angle, she said."

"Lillian? But I didn't know that she-"

"Shush, now," says Tobias, purposefully poking me in the eye, "I have to do your make-up before we put your dress on and sort out your dreadful hair!" I am now one hundred per cent certain that I despise him, along with his twelve ridiculing pyramids of hair that are coloured to represent each district. We are grey.

* * *

Sweat clings to my palms as I anxiously watch the clock's hand tick away the seconds until the 'show'. I'd say it's more like a farm's open day. Like Caesar is the farmer showing off all his livestock, before the Capitol people choose out their favourites and then lavish it when they are sent to the slaughter house. Just before the show does start, they lead us onto the stage in order of district, and make us sit down on chairs set up in an arc shape. Within twenty seconds, Caesar Flickerman is up and bouncing across the stage. Well, it is a joyous occasion, after all. For the Capitol.

The first tribute to go up is Glimmer. Sexy, obviously. Then Marvel. I miss his angle because I am distracted by someone in the audience who has the head of a fly. Clove is fierce. Cato is just a ruthless killer. Jules is humble, Cuthbert Number One charming (well, he tries to be). Silas is another 'fierce', and Caspian is cocky. And me, I am sly. I am elusive. I am cunning. I am Foxface.

I wear my funny grin to play along with the whole 'Foxface' thing that everybody already sees me as. What happens through my interview, is that Caesar asks questions, and I answer them. Simple as.

"So," says Caesar, "Everyone's been talking about how comparable you are to a fox on the outside. But how about on the inside?" Oh, Caesar, if only you knew what was going on on the inside. Even I'm not certain exactly what I'm like there any more.

"Personally, Caesar, I don't think foxes are always as they appear to be. But then again, sometimes they are. Often, when we read a book, we don't want to know the spoilers, and it's better just to read on, and find out, don't you think, Caesar?"

"Of course! So if we 'read on', what would we expect to find?"

"I think you'd find a girl with a big plan. I know how this all works, Caesar, and I can predict every tribute's every move. When you put this book in your library, it certainly won't be in with the tragedies."

* * *

I'm watching the repeats of the interviews. I sort of 'zoned-out' after I'd done mine. Gosh, mine was embarrassing, I'm not even sure I got the angle I was supposed to. It sounds more like cocky or mysterious at times, and really corny. But Lillian thought it was okay. And Ainsley should be pleased that I included her. Though it might not be the way she pictured...

* * *

"_So," says Caesar, leaning forward against the arms of the chair, "do you have any folks rooting for you back home in District Five?" I smile._

"_Sure I do, Caesar. I've got my dad, and my little sister Myra, so who else do I need?"_

"_Hm, I don't know. Are you sure that's all you you've got?"_

"_Yes." I say, but then I have another idea, "Wait, no! I had a rabbit called Ainsley. Only then it got eaten by a fox." I put back on my 'hopefully reassuring' smile as I say about Ainsley getting eaten by the fox, and it stays there for the rest of the interview, whilst I imagine a fox eating the real Ainsley alive._

* * *

It seems Ivan's interview could have gone better as well. Less than halfway through he starts to have a coughing fit, and once it eventually subsides he still has difficulty breathing for the remainder of the interview. But judging by what he managed to say, he was attempting the witty angle. He might have come out as funny to the Capitol people though, since Caesar has to joke with him on the coughing and such. But when we switch to a shot of the audience, it seems pretty plain that they feel nothing for him. Poor Ivan. Wait, should I also be saying 'poor me'? Were their faces like that after my interview, too? I can't remember.

As the interviews zoom by, I see many different angles. But too many of some. There are three more 'witty's before they get to District 10. Cuthbert Number Two has the same angle as Cuthbert Number One. That'll help people remember who's who. When they get to Rose, you can tell the audience has got bored, but they still laugh and applaud at all the right bits. She's gone for humble, and gushes about how 'amazing' the Capitol is at every opportunity. It really isn't anything at all like her character, especially after she said...

Raven's up next, and for once he's very quiet. What? Why is he doing that? It doesn't look like it's part of any sort of angle at all! He could have done anything! He's funny, witty, charming. He could play fierce, humble, mysterious, cocky, – or even my sly one if he wanted to. But no. He chose quiet. No. His _mentor _will have chosen for him to be quiet, like Lillian chose for me to be 'sly, cunning and elusive'. To be honest, I don't even know why I listened to her. But I should have asked him about it in the lift.

* * *

_After the interviews end, I hop into a lift at the last minute and narrowly avoid getting my leg wedged in the doors. I tap the number 5 button on the keypad, and it lights up red to match the 1, 2, 4, 7 and 10 buttons. I move over to stand next to Raven, because he's the reason I dashed into this lift after all. I'm glad the Capitol likes them big, as otherwise I might go claustrophobic again and it'd remind me of 'the incident', though I can't help but think that maybe it's just when I can't control being in a small space, since I was alright under the bed._

"_Hey," I say as I stand on his left. I have to look up to talk to him. Even with a crippled leg making him bend over slightly, he's still very tall. He can't be much more than an inch off Thresh._

"_Hey," Raven replies._

"_Well, I was just thinking-" I start._

"_Good for you, you're meant to think, little Foxy," interrupts Raven. I shoot him a look, before carrying on._

"_I was just thinking," I switch to a whisper, "that when the Games start tomorrow, we should just find cover straight way. You know, don't pick up any supplies, we can always raid the Careers when they go hunting later. They'll-" I point to Clove, Cato and Caspian – Glimmer already left – "-just kill us if we try for anything, and then we'll just be over straight away."_

"_Uh, yeah, that sounds good," says Raven, "So just head for the trees and stuff?"_

"_Yeah, they'll probably have trees."_

"_Cool. I'll tell Rose."_

"_Yup," I say. I still don't trust her, "and I've already told Ivan." I rest my head against his arm, and he strokes through my hair gently. It can't be true what he said yesterday. He can't not trust me. He can't._

* * *

I watch the last interviews skip by. Rue looks beautiful with little fairy wings stitched onto the back of her dress. I think she looks more pixie-like, really. Maybe I'll call her that now. Pixie. It has a certain ring to it. Her district partner only answers with one or two words for each question, which I suppose makes him look determined because of his size. And the penultimate interview is Steal-a-name-niss'. She just looks shallow, twirling around in a dress, giggling, talking about stew and being burnt alive. Ugh. At least she's not particularly memorable. Now the rest of us might have a chance of getting some sponsors, even if she does have that eleven in training. Last up is Peeta, and I'm just thinking of turning the TV off since his interview's basically done, when the crowd gives a chorus of loud cries out. Cries that sound like they contain sympathy. I tune my ears back in to listen and watch.

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" says Caesar. Peeta must've just said he had a crush on a girl or something. Peeta replies to him.

"I don't think it's going to work out," he says, "Winning... won't help in my case."

"Why ever not?" asks Caesar, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Because... because..." Peeta begins, blushing redder than my hair, "she came here with me." Oh. Very clever, you're going to try and get round the rules. Don't care about the rest of us that have it just the same, eh? I turn off the TV in rage and chuck the remote at it for good measure. I know it's all fake, but I can't help but feel everything's real. Especially with Peeta. I have a sort of gut feeling that he was being truthful.

I storm out of my room and stomp my way down into the lounge. I park my bum hard on to the first sofa I see, which is turned away from me. It feels unusually squishy.

"Ow!" says the sofa, which then goes into a coughing fit.

"Oh!" I jump up, realising, "Sorry, Ivan." I let myself fall into the space next to him.

"It's okay," he replies once he recovers, "you didn't know. Why are you up so late?"

"I could say the same thing about you!"

"Yes, I guess you could, but you haven't answered my question."

"Okay, then," I say, "I don't know. How about you?"

"I don't know."

"What intriguing conversations we have!" Ivan looks at me now – I think he'd prefer to be looking _up _at me if he could – and his eyes are full of unspoken emotions.

"I'm scared, Medea."

"Me, too." I hug him and hold him close to me and rock him as he sobs – and occasionally coughs - into my shoulder. I might have only known him a week, but he's become like a younger brother to me in that short time. I fight back tears to be strong for him, like a big sister would, well, an older sister at least, I'm not exactly big. This reminds me just who he really is, the little boy I first met in the car. He may laugh, and joke, and smile. He may comfort me when I'm sad. He may appear to be strong. But deep down inside he's just a thirteen-year-old boy who got a ball for his birthday and doesn't want to die in the Hunger Games.

Birthday. It's nearly my birthday. But now I might never see it. Tomorrow is the 31st of May. That means I'll have to make it to... day twelve, that's when I'll be sixteen. Sometimes it doesn't even last long enough for there to even _be _a day twelve.

As I stroke Ivan's head of curls, I can smell death. But it must be Tyranny's perfume. It must be.

* * *

I lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling. There can't be that many hours left until morning. I really need to sleep. But I can't. What to do... what to do... I guess I could sort out a token for myself, even if it is a bit late.

I dive under the bed and find the button that opens the secret compartment. I wonder who made this thing? Maybe they rent the training centre out for holidaying Capitol people, like they do the arenas, and it's for them. I reach out and remove Tyranny's wig from its hiding place. I'll just cut out another strand, like I did with the one I showed to Raven. But there's nothing to cut with. How did I do it last time? Oh, I remember.

Wig in hand, I wriggle out from under the bed and then drop the hair garment onto the floor. I then take a hold of a clump of its material, stand on the remainder of it, and then give it a good old yank. I fly backwards onto the bed again, but I have my token. My... lime-green token. It's better than nothing.

I return the wig to its cubby hole and instead take out the 'tabulite'. Maybe if I use it for a while, it'll make me sleepy. I tap the screen once I'm in the open again and the President's message appears. I touch it again and it changes to a white page with one big word written on it – I think it means a kind of glasses that you wear. Then some letters appear at the bottom, and when I tap one, the same letter appears under the main word. Ah. A keyboard. I backspace the '_k_', and replace it with an '_m_'. Then I add an '_e_'. And a '_d_'. Eventually, it reads '_medea travex_'. Two more buttons appear, the first saying '_search_', so I press that. Nothing comes up but a blank screen. I press the back button and type in one of my middle names. Etra. I select the other button, which says '_I'm feeling lucky_'. Why not? I might not have luck for long. Writing crops up.

"Etra name meaning: elusive"

How... interesting. Now I try another of my middle names. Camayka.

"Camayka name meaning: clever"

Um. Sylianna?

"Sylianna name meaning: sly"

Right. I think I see where this is going.

"Medea name meaning: cunning"

Medea Camayka Sylianna Etra Travex is entering the Hunger Games. Or cunning clever sly elusive Travex. Whichever you like. Or Foxface.

I'll just blame Lillian for all of this.

* * *

**So, yeah, that was a bit long, but I just really wanted to get this all over with so we can start the actual Games! :-)**

**Sorry if it went a little dodgy, especially towards the end.**

**Codeword for if you read all the author's note: Kangeroo!**

**Review please!**

**2/08/2012 - Yes, I did spell kangaroo wrong! Don't judge me!**


	11. The First Deaths

**Hey! I'm back with another update :-D And it's the arena! :-O Now the fun really begins... *evil grin***

**Thanks to you guys that did the codeword last chapter even though I spelt it wrong :-) It's nice to know somebody reads my ramblings! Thanks to: nb1998! Ellii101! ILovePeeta0000! DizzyPotter! pinkgiraffe10! And newbie11!**

**And this chapter is definitely a T for violence and blood and stuff :-O You've been warned! :-P Now enjoy :-)**

* * *

Chapter 11 – The First Deaths

I am awoken by a pounding on the door and Tobias' voice shouting at me to wake up. It feels as if I've barely gotten to sleep. I shove the pillow over my face and lie as still as possible. Maybe I can get away with pretending to have killed myself. No such luck. Tobias bursts through the door and throws me out of bed by my left arm, nearly pulling it out of its socket.

'Ow!' I shout, 'That bloody hurt!' He doesn't listen, but instead walks straight to the wardrobe. He fires random clothes at me.

'You'll wear this! And this! And these!' A shoe hits me in the head.

'Oi! There's-'

'-You're right, the shoes would be better in a shade of oyster.' He throws some boots, and I manage to duck this time, 'Now dress!'

* * *

I'm glad I'm barely ever noticed as I sit in the hovercraft rubbing my sore arm – not only has it been pulled but also stabbed by a needle now. Tobias has forced me to wear a frilly sickly-pink shirt and a plum-purple mini-skirt, with sort of yellowy-grey boots that go way past my knees. But I suppose this isn't exactly the time to be laughing at what other people are wearing – all the other tributes are probably thinking and worrying about the games right now. I don't want to worry until the very last minute, not worry about my competitors, not worry about the arena, not worry about how I might die. Or worry about who I might kill. No. Don't think about that. I don't _have _to kill. I suppose there could be ways to sneak myself through the Hunger Games.

* * *

Trapped in a glass cylinder, about to enter my life's worst battle. I have to fight against the urge to throw up or bang on the transparent container in desperation. It feels like most of me has vanished, almost all my vital organs, except my pumping heart and unblinking eyes. My eyes hold on to Tobias right until the metal plate plunges me into darkness. He is possibly the last person I'll ever see that isn't thinking about slitting my throat.

* * *

'Ladies and gentleman, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!' booms Claudius Templesmith. His voice seems to come from everywhere, yet I know it is nowhere. Well, nowhere in the arena. He'll be sat in some soft, comfy chair somewhere in the Capitol, waiting to commentate on all the 'exciting entertainment'.

He'll only have to wait just over sixty seconds for that to happen, because that's when the bloodbath will begin. And I'm not going to take part in it. I'm saying no. I'll make a statement to them. Not with words, obviously. They wouldn't listen with all that 'action' going on. Besides, actions speak louder than words.

As the seconds tick away, I decide to take a good look around what shall be my home for the next... few hours? Days? Is it possible I could even last out a couple of weeks? Well, you never know. I might not even make it a minute after the gong sounds.

But let's see the arena. Right... directly opposite me is a lake. Ivan's over there, and Raven's stood a few places to his left. Rose is a few places to the left of me. Directly behind me are woods, which stretch around to the right, too. Steal-a-name-niss is over there, and poised for the Cornucopia. Idiot. With an eleven on her shoulders, she'll be the Careers' first target. But she's obviously spotted her bow and arrows, the only ones here, so I can't say I blame her. She must be REALLY good at them to have got an eleven. We'll have to make sure to stay out of range if she manages to get them. Though I think it'd be quite a nice, quick way to die if it came down to it.

Thirty seconds left now, according to Claudius. Every year, he always says how long is left every fifteen seconds, and then counts down when he gets to twelve. Not long left now then. I observe where all the other tributes are; maybe it can help me predict where they will all end up in the arena. Going clockwise from me, it's Jay, Pixie, Glimmer, Rose, Sam, Clove, Cuthbert Number Two, Thresh, Cato, Talia, Ivan, Caspian, Sophie, Peeta, Reena, Raven, Silas, Megan, Steal-a-name-niss, Cuthbert Number One, Hunter, Marvel, Jules, and then me.

Twelve. Eleven. I take a last look at the Cornucopia.

Ten. Nine. I shift my eyes away from a purple backpack less than twenty metres away.

Eight. Seven. I remove a stray hair from my mouth and place it in my pocket, so the mines aren't disturbed.

Six. Five. I love you mum, maybe I'll see you soon.

Four. Three. I love you dad. I love you Myra.

Two. I hate you Snow.

One. I can do it. I can win.

GONG!

For the other tributes, it's time to run. For me... it's time to skip.

I rotate on my metal plate and head for the woods, skipping, with a peaceful look on my face. Like there's nothing to worry about. Admittedly it is a rather sped-up skip, but it's still showing the Capitol up. Showing that I don't have to run like they want me to. Even if I'm not on camera. They're still keeping an eye on me.

When I get into the forest, I run around so I am in about the centre, and find some shrubbery to hide in within about one hundred metres of the edge. This way I can just about see the clearing that contains the Cornucopia and just about anybody that enters the woods. The first to come through is Megan from 8. She goes towards the right. Then Pixie dashes past on my left. But where are my allies? There's somebody stumbling through the trees now, an odd figure. It coughs.

'Ivan!' I instinctively shout, perhaps a little too loud, but it doesn't look like there's anybody else to hear. He leans against a tree, trying to locate the sound. I wriggle my fingers out of the bush and hope he'll see the movement. He starts heading over, but there's a rustling over towards the Cornucopia, and when I see it's Steal-a-name-niss I freeze, not wanting to be hit by an arrow already. But she just dashes through with a pack and some plastic. I sigh, full of relief, now that I know she didn't collect her bow. I continue to gesture for Ivan to keep coming towards me. Eventually he does get here, and clutches something in his hands. A spearhead.

'Ivan! I thought I told you we shouldn't go in for anything!' He lowers himself down against a tree to sit next to me.

'I didn't,' he says, 'but the boy from District 1 did.' I look down at his legs, to see blood oozing out of his right calf.

'Oh, Ivan!'

'It's okay,' he says, half-wincing, half-coughing, 'it doesn't hurt.' I look at him.

'Ivan, if it doesn't hurt, that's a bad thing.'

'Oh. In that case, I lied, it's extremely painful.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'Good.'

'Good?'

'Sort of.'

'Sort of?'

'Ivan!'

'Okay...' Well, I suppose his ability to joke means he can't be _too _bad.

'Right. I need to take a look at your leg. Lie on your back and prop your foot up against the tree.' He does as I've said and I gently pull his trouser leg down so I can see the wound. Not much blood comes out, but a dribble keeps running down towards his knee, so I wipe it away with my sleeve every once in a while. The cut itself isn't too deep, just a reasonably-sized slash. 'Seems to me you've been a very lucky boy in this instance. Marvel's poor angling has meant it's missed the muscle and the bone. I thought Careers were meant to be good at this sort of thing?'

'Well, it's probably because he only had its head, there wasn't any stick thing connected to it to help him aim. Otherwise I'd have been a goner, I guess.' _Thank you Gamemakers for not giving them any stick things. _Cuthbert Number One's run past whilst we've been talking. But there's still no Raven. Or Rose, which might be a good thing.

'Alright, now we've just got to figure out a way to bandage you up, it might be a while before it can all clot.' I look around but there's nothing really good enough. There are no vines, like we were shown in training. I eventually settle to climb up a nearby sycamore tree and then twine the largest leaves together, when I hear a voice.

'So _this _is where you are.' I turn towards the sound to find Rose stood nearby with her hands on her hips. She must have sneaked up on us. Over one of her shoulders is a black strap and I can see a streak of purple behind that. She went in to the Cornucopia. And came out without so much as a scratch. Yet Ivan ran away and came out injured.

'I thought we decided that we weren't going to head for the supplies?'

'I didn't decide on that, you did,' she says.

'No, I did, and Ivan did, and Raven did, wherever the hell he is. Therefore _we_ did, and _you _went against us.'

'Oh, aren't you nice?'

'Well, if you were stupid enough to go in and get it, at least chuck it here so we can use it. It might have a first aid kit we can use on Ivan's leg.'

'No way, it's mine. I got it!'

I quote her, 'Why do you have to be so mean? We're _supposed _to be allies.'

'Fine,' she says, and throws the pack down at us, 'I'm only with you for Raven anyway.'

* * *

'Can't we just leave him? He's slowing us down!'

'Shush!' I say as we hike along. We're making enough noise as it is, with Ivan coughing left right and centre. I hold him up on my shoulder, as while his injury doesn't seem life threatening, it still hurts when he puts pressure on it. Between Ivan and Raven, there's only one good pair of legs now, and even if we combined them they'd have two left feet. Not that we can actually find Raven. It feels like we've been searching for hours. We probably have.

All of a sudden, Ivan stops and turns to the right. He 'ooh's and 'aah's slightly as he walks over to a berry bush. I can't see what kind they are from here, but I do as he comes back over. Nightlock.

'Why have we stopped _now_?' moans Rose, stopping and turning round towards us. I ignore her.

'Ivan, that's nightlock!'

'I know,' he says, lifting the berries up towards his mouth.

'Oh no, you don't!' I say, grabbing them all out of his hands and tossing them on the ground.

'No! Medea, you don't understand!'

'Yes, I do! You're going to kill yourself because you think you're slowing us down! Well, you're not. I could even carry you if it was that bad.'

'No, you're wrong, for once.'

'Am I?'

'Yes. Well, partly,' he coughs up loudly and has to kneel down on the ground to breathe better again. A red substance comes up. 'Medea, you know I'm going to die. Your nose keeps squinching up. You smell death.'

'What? How do you know that?' I say; I've only ever told Myra about me smelling death. I go on my knees to be level with Ivan, watching his face closely. Rose folds her arms impatiently out of the corner of my eye.

'I-, I-,' he ducks his head down and blushes, '-I've always sort of watched you. You just kind of always looked... really nice. Even when the big girl was picking on you.' Oh Ivan, please don't pull a Peeta on me. 'And before Travvie Barnett died, you kept doing a funny face around him. And Lizzie McCoy.'

'Ivan, it doesn't work like that,' I say, 'it's only if it's natural causes. I can't predict you're going to die _here._ And who even says I was squinching my nose up at you? Tyranny's perfume was everywhere.'

'No. I am going to die anyway. Because I have pneumonia.' Pneumonia. Ivan has pneumonia. Suddenly, so many things fit into place in my mind. His constant coughing. His occasional difficulty breathing. The red flemmy mucus that came out of his mouth yesterday. And it explains why I could smell Tyranny's perfume, even when she wasn't around. Because I wasn't smelling her, I was smelling Ivan.

Ivan's hands attempt to gather up the nightlock, but my own beat him to it.

'I shan't let you eat them.'

'Please Medea! I want _you_ to win! And you won't if I make us get tracked down by the Careers!' I pause for a moment. Ivan is my friend. Is it selfish of me to want him alive when he just wants to die peacefully via these berries?

'I'm not sure...' I say.

'Oh! Let me do it so it's quicker!' Rose charges forwards, snatching the nightlock from my hands and then spurts the juice of one into Ivan's mouth. Just like that, he falls onto his side and the lights in his eyes fade into nothing. The spearhead is still in his hand from earlier.

'No!' I scream, patting his cheeks frantically, as though that will make him move again. 'You killed him!' I shout at Rose, not caring how loud I am now. She has murdered the boy with the ball.

Before I know what's happening, I find myself grabbing a hold of the blunt end of Ivan's spearhead. I dive onto an unsuspecting Rose, who falls straight onto her back. The point of my weapon penetrates her body in no time at all. And I have done it on the left side of her ribcage. Right through her heart.

I sit up, stunned at what I have done, bewildered at the blood that now smothers my hands. As Rose dies, I hear a barely audible voice.

'I told him we couldn't trust you.'

* * *

I prop Ivan up against a tree and close his eyes over. Then I remove his ball from his jacket pocket and place it in both of his hands, which I have moved to rest on his lap. As I stand up, I look at him. He really does look like he could be sleeping, even in death. Even if he has a badly-bandaged up leg. Even if the blood still hasn't clotted. He just looks like a young boy on a summer's evening, tired out after playing all day. _Forever sleeping in peace now_, I think, smiling up at the sky. I ruffle my hand through his blonde curls and bend down to plant a kiss on his forehead. You don't need to worry about pneumonia now, Ivan. You don't need to worry about your leg, either. And I will win for you now, too. I'll make sure you cannot be forgotten. I barely avoid crying, but I can feel tears in my eyes, and my throat is dry and sore, and I know it isn't just because I haven't drunk since this morning.

Now I have to come over to Rose. My first kill. I must make sure it is my last, too. I don't know what was going through my head. Anger, fury at her killing my friend. Sadness, grief at Ivan dying. Confusion, bewilderment at the fast actions. All this equated to give me the fear enough to kill her without thinking.

_Take it slowly, _I tell myself, _the hovercrafts won't come for a while because it's the first day. _The first thing I do is close her eyes over, so I won't have to endure their lifeless stare. Next, I tackle the pack. She's not really going to need it now, is she? I bend her floppy arm around so that the strap unhooks from it. _Breathe deep, Menny. It's just like undressing a doll. _I pull the pack by the other strap and it comes straight off her. _Piece of cake_. Now for the... awkward bit. I take a hold of the end of the spearhead and yank it out of her body. Blood covers my hands like gloves once again, but I don't wipe them this time. I just shove the weapon in my pack, throw it over my shoulder, and run.

I run as far away as I can from her. I don't want to look at the mess I've made for another second. Eventually, I run out of breath and stop, panting. I lean against a tree and sob. It's only the first day and I'm already breaking down. _How will I win for my family and Ivan if I'm like this? _I think, before a hand covers my mouth from behind. At first I scream into it, but then instead bite it, and it moves away.

'Ow! That hurt, little Foxy! You are definitely _not_ a herbivore! What took you so long?' I spin around and see Raven. _Of course, _I think, _who else would call me 'little Foxy'? _He sees the state of me and his expression changes entirely. He takes a hold of my blood-stained hands. 'Medea? What the hell happened? Are you hurt? Where's the blood from? Why are you crying?' He shoots a million questions at me.

'Ivan,' is all I manage to mumble.

'Ivan?' Raven says in shock, '_Ivan _did this to you?'

'No!' I say in barely a whisper, 'Ivan... Ivan...' I sink down to the ground as I cry. Why has this only come on now? As if to remind me of what's happened, the bloodbath tributes' cannons begin to fire. Well, nine of them are bloodbaths. Two of them – the last two, I think – are partly there because of me. The final one, directly.

'I- I- I- I couldn't save him, Raven,' I say, in case he needs more explanation, 'I was too late.' I won't tell him the full truth. I can't tell him that Rose killed him. I can't tell him that I killed Rose. But I won't lie. Not totally.

Raven sits down beside me and wraps his arms around my shoulders. He notices the pack.

'Hey. Where'd you get this from? You didn't go into the bloodbath after all, did you?'

'No.' I say edgily, 'I... well... I got it off a dead guy.' There. No lies. Raven sighs sadly.

'You and me both, eh?' he says, revealing a red backpack. I'm sure he didn't have as much on his conscience as I did when he took it.

It's getting darker now so we travel further into the woods to make a camp, but not too far. We'll be heading to the lake to collect water once the Careers are deep hunting. It's not long before we come to a large bush, easily big enough to hide two people within its leaves. We don't want to risk trees while we're still so close to the Career camp, because for the first however far they go they'll be checking up every tree, until they start to get bored and just charge onwards.

We make sure to check our packs before the sky turns black. They contain virtually the same except Raven's has a sleeping bag instead of a first aid kit. He doesn't question the bloody spearhead in mine. When I see the food, I suddenly realise that I am hungry. But I'm normally always hungry anyway, excluding the past week of luxuries. We split a small loaf of bread in two, and then two again. This is our ration for the night, along with a few dried cherries. I love cherries. They were my favourite food in the Capitol, even though you had to spit out the stones. Not so nice dried, though.

When it goes dark, we share the sleeping bag and get what sleep we can, as we could be up the rest of the night collecting water for our bottles – they're two litres each, but specially made to be compact while empty, so they'll just 'grow' when we fill them. I drift into an uneasy slumber.

* * *

_I am a fox in a meadow full of sleeping sheep. They are so peaceful, and it appears like nothing could disturb them, nothing could hurt them. Fox can prey on sheep, but I won't do so today. I just want to watch them._

_I am special friends with one of the sheep, so I go and lie by him. When we were young, sometimes we would play together as though we were siblings, and not two very separate species. There would be nothing between us, nothing at all. I hear him mutter in his sleep._

'_It's your fault,' he murmurs, 'you could have saved me from her. I didn't have to die.'_

_I turn to my sheep friend, and blood flows out of his back right calf at the rate of a river, but he still sleeps. Then his body dries out until he is little more than skin and wool. But suddenly he transforms and becomes a bloodhound. And he chases me and chases me until I can't run any more and delivers the deadly bite._

* * *

_I am walking through a wonderfully white forest. There is snow everywhere. I trudge along through it, ankle-deep, as new white crystals begin to fall._

_A snowflake floats through the air towards me and lands on my tongue. A quick, ice-cool shiver runs along it but vanishes just as quickly as it had appeared. I fasten up my thick winter coat all the way and tighten my scarf as I walk on. I love the snow, but it will be good to get home again and sit by the fireplace in the warm with my family._

_A large clap of thunder comes from above my head as lightning strikes down a nearby tree. It collapses over to the left of me, so I instinctively start to walk further to the right, as well as speeding up. It isn't long before a tree to my right is also struck down, so I move back to the left. But then more and more trees are falling all around me, some right in my path, so I run and run and run, jumping, dashing, dodging them all. Until one of the tallest trees is collapsing close by me, and I only just manage to avoid it, but my quick move results in me plunging into the deep snow face first. I roll over onto my back as the freezing snow seeps through my clothes and creates goose bumps everywhere._

_I stare up at the sky, shivering, when a bright spark of light appears in the otherwise grey clouds. It comes nearer and nearer and nearer until it stabs me in the chest like a spearhead. Right through my heart._

_It burns like I've never felt burnt before. It spreads through my body and stabs everywhere like daggers from the inside. I can't move or breathe or anything as the snow turns red like blood and a dark, cloudy figure of a girl walks over to me. The only feature I can make out on her is a smile that hints at revenge._

* * *

The anthem wakes me up from my nightmares as the faces of the dead appear in the sky. We can hear the Careers shout 'That's mine!' or 'I got that one!' as each tribute rolls by. Jules from 3. Caspian from 4. Then it's Ivan.

'I killed him!' yells a boy's voice. Marvel. It must be. Marvel, how wrong you are.

Next are Reena and Jay from 6. Talia and Sam from 7. I thought Talia might last a while with her spears. No. Don't think about spears. There's Cuthbert Number Two from 8. Sophie and Hunter from 9. And Rose from 10.

'Aw, I guess Rose didn't make it,' says Raven, with sorrow in his voice as the Careers fight over who it was that killed her.

'Yeah,' I reply, 'I guess.'

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**:-O She is now officially a murderer! Bet you weren't expecting that :-P So tell me what you think in a review! :-) Even if you haven't reviewed yet!**

**Codeword this chapter is: the 'dark cloudy figure of a girl' from the second nightmare's name! It's not that hard to work out I hope...**

**So review please! :-D**


	12. Smiles and a Sigh

**Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me-eeeeeeee! Happy birthday to me!**

**Another chapter :-) Yay! And also, I'm going to make the codewords simple again, since the last one kinda failed. It was 'Rose' not 'dark cloudy figure of a girl', as it is a codeWORD X-D But I guess that CloveDiedForYourSins, kitkat1425, DizzyPotter, nb1998, ILovePeeta0000, newbie11, pinkgiraffe10 and annaissocoollike all get virtual ice cream! Extra brownie points for DizzyPotter, nb1998 and ILovePeeta0000! You guys get the whole choice of virtual sprinkles, sauce and sherbet on your desserts!**

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Chapter Twelve – Smiles and a Sigh

'...And then he even had the nerve to break my nail! So I just lopped it at his head and kept bashing it in until he died! It was like, so funny. Are you listening, Cato? Cato!'

We stay hidden, not even daring to breathe as the Careers walk along not far away. They're chatting as they go, or at least Glimmer is. From what I've heard her saying, she's a complete bimbo. A deadly bimbo, but a bimbo none the less. She chats up Cato constantly, and he sometimes flirts back, but mostly not; he's blatantly not interested, which isn't surprising considering the circumstances.

Most of the people that I thought would be Careers are in their crew, though there are a few little surprises. The first being that Caspian from four – the one I called a fish - isn't there, but that wouldn't be too surprising, as he's dead. The second shock is that Peeta is there. From twelve! They could kill him in a heartbeat, even if he has got muscles. I work my way into their minds as they come within touching distance of me and Raven. How is he helping them? Everything has a cause, and everything has a reason. And his reason for being there is... Yes! It's because he knows Steal-a-name-niss, and he'll know what her secret skill is, even if the Careers don't. And that's why he's there. Because the Careers think he can lead them to their special eleven girl.

'...I mean, seriously? What's the point in me having an axe if it's already got blood-stains on it? Bows and arrows are like, so-ooo-ooo much better, 'coz then you don't even have to get blood on yourself when they die! 'Coz then you're-'

'Shut up!' yells Cato, 'I just heard something!'

'Was it the voice of an angel, my love?' flirts Glimmer.

'Voice of a strangled cat, more like,' mutters Clove.

'What's THAT supposed to mean?'

'Nothing. But everything.'

'Why you-!' As the Careers begin to fight, it appears our quick rustle from earlier is forgotten. They all take sides, apart from Peeta, who just stands to the side, polishing his knife with the edge of the shirt. He walks over to stand in front of our bush after a while, seemingly tired of their arguing. For a moment, I swear he makes eye contact with me through the leaves. No, he can't have...

'Look, this bickering won't get us anywhere,' he announces, his back to the bush, effectively blocking out my seeing point, 'why don't we just move on before they can get any further?' Judging by the grunts that follow, the others reluctantly agree, and it isn't long before they are all disappearing off into the distance. _He saved us, _I think, _he could have told them we were there hiding, but he didn't. Why?_ Maybe I'll never know.

'Come on,' I whisper, 'They've gone now.' Raven sits up – he had to lie down so there'd be enough room for me to keep a watch – and says,

'What are we waiting for, then?' I smile and grab the water bottle from my pack, while Raven does the same with his own. I search for the right opening to crawl out of, and then show the way for Raven. It's a bit harder for him, what with his size and his leg, but he still clambers out without too much difficulty.

'The lake is...' I look about for some sort of clue, but nothing materialises. Eventually I decide to just follow my nose, and point in a general direction in front of us, 'that way.' I jog for about a hundred metres, but then turn around to see that Raven has scarcely made it ten. I rush back over to him. 'What's up?' I ask.

'How can you run so fast?' I give him a confused look.

'That wasn't fast. That was jogging.' Now it's his turn to look confused.

'Even if I had two good legs I could never go that fast.'

'Yeah, right. You'd be well ahead. Now let's stop loitering here and get there as quick as we can!' We carry on for a while, Raven desperately trying to speed up for me, me desperately trying to slow down for Raven. It's no use. I'm always in front no matter what we do, and I'm more off guard when I have to keep checking back every two seconds. Deep down, we know what has to happen. I stop beside a bush.

'Who's loitering now?' teases Raven, 'Why have we stopped?'

'Good question,' I reply, 'would you say this bush would be good for hiding in?' Raven turns to the bush.

'I guess so, and?'

'And, I'll see you with some water soon!' I snatch his bottle out of his hands and sprint off before he can argue. He wouldn't want me going on my own, I don't think, even if it's the only way we can get there quickly. I turn back just for a moment, to see if he's angry, but his face wears a smile that I can't describe with an emotion, but it sort of says 'Oh you cheeky person, Medea, but you're nice that way'. Sort of. I briefly smile back as my heartbeat thumps faster and faster, but I don't think it's because of the running. There's also a sort of fluttering, warm feeling inside my chest, but maybe I just have hay fever. I wouldn't know, since there aren't any plants in District Five. At all. The pollution stops any from growing.

It isn't too long before I reach the lake, and find the Careers' camp is right by it. _Of course it is, _I think, _they almost always have it by a water supply. _I peer through the trees in case there are any Careers waiting to ambush me, but of course, they are all out hunting. I just casually walk up to the water, bottle in either hand, and kneel by its edge. I run my hand over its surface, sending gentle ripples all over. Suddenly a thought comes to me. There could be something wrong with the water. It could even be poisoned. What that trainer said... _Never eat anything unless you're a hundred percent sure it's non-toxic. _Does that count for water as well? They said at another station that you had to add iodine to any water you get to purify it. But me and Raven didn't have any. There wasn't any in his pack, or mine; it still doesn't feel right to say it's mine, because it just reminds me of _her. _Before I know what's what, I find myself pawing through the Careers' supplies, which are mainly in crates scattered around where they must sleep; it isn't very organised. I can't find iodine anywhere, and it would take far too long to search for some in this light, even if I have got what my dad calls 'night-eyes'. Suddenly, I hear the sound of pounding footsteps from the woods behind me, too light to be a Career's. And I know what I am going to do.

I dash back over to the water's edge, before hearing a rustling, as though I had only just heard signs of a person. I turn my head like it's a reflex, and spot a dirty face peering out through the leaves. Then, as loud as I dare, I shout, 'Oh, hello!' then cover my mouth as though it were an accident. I mouth a sorry back in their direction, but then gesture for them to come over. 'It's okay, I won't kill you if you won't kill me.' Cautiously, Cuthbert Number One steps out, and I wave simple-mindedly to him. Maybe I should stop calling him Cuthbert Number One now, as he _is_ the only Cuthbert in the competition since Cuthbert Number Two died. Nah.

'Come have a drink, the water tastes lovely,' I say, and dunk my head right under as if I can't get enough of it. What Cuthbert Number One doesn't know, is that this is so he won't know I'm not taking any of it in. My mouth stays firmly shut, but I give a big blow when I first dip in to make it seem like I've opened my mouth wide to drink. This whole thing is a bit of a gamble really, because he could hold my head under at any minute, and as I'm such a little titch I wouldn't be able to do much to stop him. When I resurface for air, I make a show of doing a little satisfied 'ah' like you do when you've drank something nice, and then grin at him encouragingly. He slowly walks over to the lake, looking over his shoulder at every opportunity like he's got paranoia, which possibly he has, being in here. He goes down on his hands and knees and then bends down gradually like he's afraid the water will jump up and bite him. Eventually his lips touch it and I watch his neck as he gulps it down. He isn't faking it. It's a while before he sits back up, and when he does he wipes his mouth and gives the same sort of 'ah' that I did. I fill up the two bottles while he has another drink, and hum a silly tune as I do, just to keep up the simple-mindedness that I've been playing. I screw on the tops once they are full, and skip over to the Careers' camp, trying to hide the great weight they now have. I reach into a burlap sack of apples and toss one to Cuthbert Number One, smiling like we're friends. He returns the smile, but this is more of a pitying smile, a smile that says 'you're so going to be dead by next week'. That's good. That means I've been convincing. I shove a few apples in my jacket pockets discreetly, before taking out another one and biting into it straight away, like I'm dumb enough not to save anything for later. Then I wave to Cuthbert Number One, and skip away into the woods with the bottles in one hand and the apple in the other.

I stop when I'm a few metres in, and watch Cuthbert Number One. The water might not have given any immediate side effect to him, but I'll have to watch him for a while to check it really is safe. He continues to drink the water in intervals for some time, but then eventually fills up a water skin from his pack and runs to the forest; he enters to the right of me. I quietly follow him, my arms straining from the bottles' weight. I watch him and follow him for what must be hours, because I see, not the first lights of dawn appearing, but the last darks of night vanishing. And Cuthbert Number One hasn't died, or collapsed, or groaned, or anything. The water's safe! And then the cannon booms.

The boy startles, but then dismisses it, because he knows it's not his own. And I know it's not his own. And I know it's not mine. But I don't it's not...

I'm flying through the woods in an instant, even the bottles don't slow me down, and I'm somehow quietly screaming out his name. I trip on a plant root, and then I'm crying on my back, softly crying because I can't even remember where I left him, and maybe I'll never find him, because he's dead by the Careers and-

'Medea?'

The sound of his voice brings me to my feet instantly as I croak out a relieved, 'Raven!'

'Medea!'

I run towards the sound of his voice and soon I am hurling myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and hanging off the ground because of our difference in sizes. He loses balance for just a moment, but then wraps his gentle yet muscular arms around me and holds me like he'll never let go. He makes us spin as I bend my legs upwards so that my feet are inline with my hips.

'I thought I'd lost you,' I say to him.

'Me too, but you,' he replies. Then there's a silence, and it feels like we might be about to do more than just hug, but Raven puts me down like he can't manage to do more than that after all. 'Did you get the water?' he asks, sounding almost defeated. I sigh sadly.

* * *

**Bit of romance :-) I hope I made it realistic and everything**

**This chapter's codeword is... Traffic! :-)**

**Please make my day by pressing that little button down there and reviewing! :-D**


	13. Maple On Oak

**Hey! It's been a while, but here it is! I was going to do more, but it's been ages, and I found not too bad a place to end it, so :-) And just a warning, but I wouldn't say it's the most exciting chapter I've ever done, so :-S But hopefully it's at least good quality!**

**Thanks to my codeword guys! You're all awesome! Virtual pizzas! CloveDiedForYourSins! DizzyPotter! ILovePeeta0000! d11olive-24! newbie11! Tessabelle94! Jacqueline (the anon :-O)! annaissocoollike! pinkgiraffe10! Wew, now I'm out of breath from you all!**

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Chapter 13 – Maple On Oak

The early morning light seeps through the heavy foliage above us, projecting a vaguely green light onto the forest floor that flickers like candlelight as the wind makes the leaves wriggle about above us. I didn't know leaves could be that translucent, but I suppose it could be some genetic mutation of the Capitol's. What use it would be, I don't know. Maybe it's just a good material for making dresses or something. I might even have been wearing it. How ironic it would be if I were an electricity pylon made of leaves. Representing District Five in the one thing it could never hope to provide.

'I think it's light enough to find our camp again,' I say, nudging Raven. He's fallen asleep. _Again. _I've tried to drop off too, but whenever I manage it I'm awoken by nightmares of sheep and dogs and snow and lightning, which I somehow find far more terrifying than the idea of being in these Games.

'Five more minutes, mother,' jokes Raven, smacking his lips together as though half-asleep, 'I don't want to go to school today...' This might be funny if him saying 'mother' didn't remind me of my own. I feel a pang in my heart as this makes me think of so much. Of her death, which reminds me of pneumonia, which reminds me of Ivan, which reminds me of his death, which reminds me of Rose, which reminds me of her death, which reminds me of the wooden coffins they'll all be lying in now, which reminds me of the incident, which reminds me of pneumonia, which reminds me of... I wish I didn't have the talent of connecting things up.

'Come on you,' I say, not wanting to dwell on my awful thoughts any longer. I pull at the back of his shirt's collar so I lightly strangle him for a moment.

'Eck!' he says, 'I hope you've not broken _this _early.' Broken? What is he referring to? Is he joking that I've broken the alliance because I 'strangled' him? Or is he talking about the Capitol, and how they break your spirit by making you kill and other despicable things? Or could it be something else?

'Nah,' I reply, 'I'm not that fragile.'

* * *

It must be nearly an hour before we find our original camp with our supplies. We have had to check every bush in a three hundred metre radius, so it's hardly surprising really. I wish we'd have marked something on a nearby tree or something, because then we would have found it in no time. Though I suppose that would have defeated the whole object of having our camp hidden.

We go through our supplies in the still relatively early daylight, in case we got it wrong last night. It can't be any later than nine, probably not even eight, but they might have daylight looking different for the time of day here to District Five, so my guessings may not be that accurate. Altogether, we have one and a half small loaves of very dry bread, one and a quarter tins of dried cherries, two small blobs of cheese, a sleeping bag, a full first aid kit minus one bandage, a sharp rock that Raven found, and now, five apples. I couldn't stand to look at the spearhead any more so I buried it and said a few words too, like you'd do at a funeral. I throw an apple to Raven.

'You can have this, I already had one earlier,' I say. Raven smiles.

'Thanks,' he replies, and reaches for the sharp rock. Then before I know what's happened, Raven has split the apple into two equal halves, and is handing one to me. I shake my head.

'It's yours,' I say.

'No,' says Raven, 'we wouldn't even have it if it weren't for you. We're going halves.' And before I can object any more, he has thrust the piece of apple into my mouth and I can already taste the sweet juice rolling onto my tongue. It tastes much better, much more powerful, than the whole of the last apple. I feel the same fluttering, warm sensation pulsing through my chest as I did last night when I was running to the lake. Once we've finished the apple off, we eat half a loaf of bread between us, and also split up one blob of the cheese, as we haven't had any protein since we got here. It's a good job that we are both used to being hungry, as otherwise this wouldn't be nearly fulfilling enough. That's the reason that District Five hasn't won in so long, really. Less than three percent of us take tesserae, meaning the majority of our tributes can't outdo the hunger. We don't have any special skills, either, just knowing how you make electricity for the Capitol. So we starve or get killed because we are well-fed, but weak. At least I only have to worry about one of these poor traits. My family's in the less than three percent.

For the rest of the day, we just look for more food, berries and nuts and stuff; we also try to see if we can find another source of water, but there's nothing. At one point we have to scarper and hide real quick, because the Careers are running towards us, heading back to camp for food I suppose. Luckily they aren't too close at all and we come back out to forage almost straight after they're gone. I'll have to hope they go out hunting again soon, because in this heat, it won't be long before our water runs out, no matter how well we ration it. But should I be hoping they go hunting? Because hunting means they'll be trying to kill non-Career tributes. And we are non-Career tributes. And we'll be supporting them to kill us as well as the others if we hope they'll go hunting again.

It doesn't seem long before night is almost falling, and we make our way back to our camp. We can find it now because we stuck a maple leaf on our nearby oak tree with a plaster bound at the back so it wouldn't show. I doubt the Careers know much about different trees, so we should be safe – though they don't go hunting tonight anyway. We have just snuggled up inside the sleeping bag when we hear the anthem playing. We look up to the sky and see the girl from Eight – Megan Crimson – appear. So she's died. But at whose hands? Or possibly what's?

I close my eyes and desperately hope that I won't snore tonight like Myra always used to say I did when I had a blocked nose.

* * *

I have more sheep and lightning nightmares through my troubled sleep. Raven's already awake, and looks well-enough rested, so I'm guessing that I didn't snore. That's good.

My throat is dry and sore but there's barely any water left. I desperately hope that the Careers will go out hunting again, or else we might die of thirst. You can only last about three days without water, and that's at a stretch. Our food supplies are decent at the moment, but they'll need to be topped up soon too.

Today we do pretty much the same as yesterday, search for food. I find a berry bush and I let out a delighted squeal when I find out that they are oppoberries. On the outside, they are similar in appearance to blueberries, only they bulge out in the middle a bit more. On the inside, the juice is red as blood. I stuff a couple into my mouth. Yes, bitter, just like the trainer said, but wait, and... yes, now it's turning sweet. Bitter skin and sweet juice. That's why they're called oppoberries. Raven and I take handfuls and handfuls of the stuff, and my throat feels a lot less dry now, but we'll still need that water from the lake.

It doesn't seem that long before we're dividing the food again, and going to sleep. Hm. Maybe life in the arena isn't as bad as they make out. When we look up into the sky as the anthem plays, there are no tributes' faces staring back. No deaths. Well, we knew that; there weren't any cannons.

Feet pound hard against the dry earth almost as soon as the anthem finishes. Careers. Looking for another kill. And they won't find it here, because we are super silent and they go right past us both. Now for water.

Raven's sleeping again, so I don't bother waking him up because it would only make him worried when I'm going out on my own. But I swear he must be on sleep pills or something. Or possibly I'm nocturnal.

I carefully slip the two water bottles out of our packs and hang the vine straps we made for them over my head and one shoulder. Then I just run, leaving the packs with Raven, since I won't need them if I don't get back because I'll be dead anyways. It must have been a full moon the other day, because it is much harder to navigate with this waning one in the sky; there's not as much light.

I reach the lake and fill the bottles, hoping that the Careers won't have poisoned it or anything. No, they wouldn't, this is where they get their water too. I collect a few handfuls of apples from the sack, stuffing them in my pockets again. This time, I also get some cheese, ham, and beans, as there are just about enough of each of these for them not to notice them going missing. I'm glad to not encounter any tributes during my scavenging, but on my way back through the woods, there is a lot of noise on my right, where I am supposed to be going. Great. I'll have to go around them now.

The heavy bottles bang against my legs where there shall soon be bruises as I run. My neck starts to feel sore from the weight and I have to sit down on a rock for a rest, clicking and twisting my neck back into place as I do. I'm probably nearly out of range of the other tribute, but I'd better go a bit further in before turning just to make sure. I see some smoke in the distance. _Idiot, _I think, _the Careers will hunt you down, in an instant. _But soon I can see a flicker of reddish-orange light only a couple of hundred metres away. But it isn't dawn yet, it can't be. Can it? No, it can't, because this isn't the lights of dawn. It is flames of a wall of fire. Twelve feet tall. Born of Gamemakers. And it's beautiful as it destroys everything in its path. Beauty within chaos.

But then I realise.

Because it's destroying everything in its path.

And I'm in its path.

And it will destroy me too.

Buttocks.

* * *

**So, what did you think? I know it was kinda boring in comparison to other chapters, but hopefully the next one will be better.**

**This chapter's A/N codeword is... *drumroll* ...flannel! So put that in your review and you'll get a virtual... uh... some kind of food with a side order of a shout-out! :-D**

**Speaking of reviewing, why not do just that now? We're on 97 now, so let's make it 100! The number of reviews, favouriters, and alerters has totally exceeded my expectations now :-') Oh, now I'm all emotional, I actually can feel tears in my eyes - no joke!**

**So review please!**


	14. A Lack of Logic

**We got 13 reviews for chapter 13! And we now have 111 altogether :-) Thanks guys! And well done to all of you codeword people! You all get a virtual packet of gummy bears!**

**That's: Tessabelle94! ILovePeeta0000! pinkgiraffe10! MissDizzyD! nb1998! CloveDiedForYourSins! newbie11! anon! (:-S) DizzyPotter!**

**And to The Phantom Mockingjay who wanted a "super awesome mega shoutout" for using all the codeword in one go... - You just got one! X-D**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen – A Lack of Logic

A course of action. That's what I need. A course of action. But what?

I have a list of choices.

Go over it. Go under it. Run to the left. Run to the right. Run directly away.

Going under or over is impossible.

Running to either side would mean the fire would catch up.

If I run away I'll surely run into another tribute, that's why the Gamemakers have made this obstacle in the first place. And then I'll die. So it's hopeless. Every action leads to death. Especially a new one that has just entered my mind...

A sudden lack of logic. That's all it takes.

Four litres of water pour over me.

Wet fabric is clutched tight.

Eyes are closed.

Feet run.

Heat rises.

Wet becomes damp.

Damp becomes dry.

Dry becomes burnt.

Heat becomes coolness.

Air becomes ground.

I roll about on the dirt, patting out the last remnants of flames from my trousers and jacket, which is now little more than a shawl. Now I really do have fiery hair. But I can barely breathe. Did that just happen? I ran... through a fire. Wow. Not many people can say that.

I'm alive.

I'm alive.

The word feels full of all kinds of knots, tangled up, meaning so much and yet so little. But it fills me with a warm, flickering feeling of hope. Because if I can run through a twelve-foot fire and survive, I can do the same for the Games, can't I?

The trees are unscathed from the fire as I watch it advance on. I'd better hope that the water bottles will be unscathed, too, but I think that really, I know they won't. The only reason I wasn't burnt was because I was fast, and the water bought me time. And the trees... well, who knows if anything in this arena is real, anyway?

This is my last thought before I hear a cannon's boom, and my whole mind freezes up.

* * *

One thought. There is just one thought pulsing through my mind as I move on.

_Was it him?_

I tread carefully on the balls of my feet, never crunching a leaf, nor cracking a twig, nor crushing a pine cone. _Was it him? _whispers the wind. _Was it him? _sing the birds. _Was it him? _yells Death.

'No,' I say, though anybody close-by would be able to hear it. 'He's not that fragile,' I say, repeating what I said about myself just two days ago. No, less than that. One day and... well, it's nearly been two days.

I trek through the woods, trying not to cough, because if I do, it might mean I'll throw up, and I need all the strength I can have inside of me to carry on.

Smoke lingers in the air like a bad smell, which it is also. I'm still in shock that I actually ran through a wall of fire. I was lucky it was just a wall, and not a sports field of fire or anything. Still, a newspaper of fire would have been more preferable.

I'm totally lost now. There's no clue to what direction I am going in, so I just keep moving in an odd sort of zig-zag. Which day is it today, I wonder? One... two... it's Day 4 now. So that's... the 3rd of June 74 ADD. Not long until my birthday, then. I don't like these thoughts, but I prefer them to the other lingering one that still pulses in the background. Because the truth is, I can't answer that thought.

_Was it him?_

* * *

I find a pond, and coat myself in all the nearby mud the water has created. My startlingly-red hair is now a common-place brown. That will be good for hiding in trees. I drink the water, because I don't really have a choice; I don't have iodine, and I need to hydrate. It has a slightly sweet taste to it, but I don't worry, because if I'm going to die, then I'll just die. Plus it actually helps me to want to drink more.

Thick black smoke hangs in the air, but luckily I'm always low enough to avoid the most of it. I've only been here - what, ten minutes? - when I can hear signs of a tribute in the distance. And I mean the distance. They must be several hundred metres away, in fact. I sprint off to the left, and find a large tree, so I hide behind it, hoping not to leave tracks as I go. In less than two minutes, somebody walks straight in to my little pond. _That's MY pond! _I feel like shouting, but resist, because I do not yet know who this is. Maybe it's Raven! But no such luck. It's Steal-a-name-niss, of all people.

She stumbles across the clearing, carrying on through the pool until she is ankle-deep. Then she realises her feet are wet. _Well done, _I think, _you know what water is. _Then she lies on her stomach and sticks her bloody, burnt hands in. And then she tears up her trouser leg and sticks in her calf. Eww, no way am I drinking from there again. I want to move on, but I just find that I can't, Steal-a-name-niss just seems too close, even if she is injured. I'm actually quite surprised she got hurt, because on the first day I saw her run, and she was pretty fast - maybe as fast as me, or even faster. From the positionings of her burns though, it seems that it must not have been the initial wall of fire that created them, but perhaps a secondary form of attack on the Gamemakers' part. I'm just glad that I was lucky enough not to run into it too.

Steal-a-name-niss is still there in the late afternoon. So am I. Why can't she just _move_? Pond-hogger. Even in the evening, she's still there, drinking and bathing, bathing and drinking. While I stand here, clothed in mud, thirsty and starving, as the pockets with apples in got burnt off in my enflamed charge. Steal-a-name-niss starts to lose consciousness eventually. She's not asleep, just not entirely awake - in a stupor. So I take my chance and run, sensing that more danger could come at any moment.

Taking off, I don't stop to look back for even a moment, and I come to another clearing that's much larger than the first, though it does have a few trees in it, so perhaps it doesn't count as a clearing, though the open space is about the size of a basketball court. Slowly, I walk up to one of the trees in the clearing and begin to climb it. Using my body weight against myself to make it easier for me, like Raven showed me. Oh, Raven. I wish I knew where you were. Even if you were dead, it would put my might at rest at least.

Trying not to look down, I swing this way and that between branches until I'm about twelve metres up. But then I see it, right above my head. A wasp's nest. And knowing the Gamemakers... Twice as quickly as I went up, I manoeuvre myself down the tree. I can hear voices and the sound of feet running not that far away. The Careers will be in there somewhere. And I'm not safe yet. I dash to a slightly smaller tree on the edge of the clearing, and climb at top speed, not taking as much precaution as previously, meaning that I nearly fall seven metres. I stop after another two metres, and just perch on a branch, having a breather. I should be all right now, shouldn't I? I doubt the Careers will be able to get up here after me.

A small figure runs into the clearing not long after I've gotten this high, and starts to climb the wasp tree. It's little Rue that I thought looked just like a pixie. She'll die if she meets them up there. If they are what I think they are, it'll only take one or two stings, and then she's done for. But she isn't my ally. I don't even know her. If the wasps _do _take her down, it will just mean one less opponent to face, right?

'No!' I shriek, and Rue turns her head towards my voice. I point at the nest. 'Jackers!' I yell. She nods at my finger – the one part of me not hidden by leaves – and runs to the tree's next-door neighbour. And she climbs it just in time, because even more tributes come rushing in – Steal-a-name-niss, with the Careers tight on her heels.

I don't want to look. I don't want to look. So I don't look, and just face into the tree-bark, but not before seeing Steal-a-name-niss begin to scale the wasp tree.

I suppose that at some point, I fall asleep.

* * *

_I follow a bird through a scorching desert. I do not know where we are going, just that wherever it is must be better than this barren wasteland. The bird promises a better future._

_Sand blows into my eyes and the grains get lodged between my teeth as I slowly progress onwards. The grey bird still flies and guides me. I trust it, because it will be able to see everything far better in the air than I ever could do on ground._

_All of a sudden, the grey raven disappears into nothing. I call for it, but it does not return. The sun is beginning to burn the back of my neck. I won't survive for long. I need my raven to guide me through this mass of sandy yellow. But I can't find him. Raven is missing. Raven is gone._

* * *

**Did you like it? Tell me in a review! And it's a bit non-canon now! :-O**

**Also, I was wondering. What do you think of the chapter names? I would like to know :-)**

**Codeword: Hairbrush (you can probably guess how I come up with these by now)**

**Review please! :-D**


	15. Something to Guide Me

**Tessabelle94, MissDizzyD, CloveDiedForYourSins, DizzyPotter, newbie11, ILovePeeta0000, nb1998, zep182 and The Phantom Mockingjay all gave the codeword last chapter and get a virtual Danish pastry! :-) Yum. And as requested, pinkgiraffe10 gets a major shout-out for coming up with an epic way to kill someone with a hairbrush! X-D**

**I was going to put this up yesterday, but my school had an open evening that I had to help out with so... :-( But I did drama and I was a wolf, which I like to think is nearly a fox :-D**

**Now here's chapter fifteen!**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen – Something to Guide Me

I awake to a cannon's boom. It's early morning. I must have slept through the anthem, and the whole night itself. Wiping water from my face - it must have rained while I slept – I de-attach myself from the tree trunk which I have been hugging all night. As I look below me, there's virtually nobody still on the ground. I look to the wasp tree, but it is no longer the wasp tree. The branch which had the nest on has been sawn off. I look back to the ground and see a swollen, disfigured body lying there, with another person – who almost looks drunk – edging towards it. The alive person scrambles about and must break the dead one's fingers to remove a bow. Oh, I know who they are now. Steal-a-name-niss wants to get a bow from what must remain of Glimmer, as she was the one I saw with the bow and arrows.

Steal-a-name-niss rolls Glimmer onto her stomach, and I can see she's hyperventilating badly from her chest movements – must have been stung. Just as Steal-a-name-niss removes the sheath from Glimmer, another figure darts into the clearing with a spear. My heart races for all of them; I can't imagine what it must be like there right now. Steal-a-name-niss tries to position an arrow on her bow, when she realises that it's Peeta that's run in.

'What are you still doing here?' he hisses, 'Are you mad? Get up! Get up! Run!' So Steal-a-name-niss does as he says, just as an angry Cato slashes his way through the brush and charges at Peeta. They fight for a while, but it seems that they are both also fighting off fatigue. No, not fatigue. It must be the plum-sized lumps with stingers that have now appeared all over their wet skin. Neither boy is injured for a few minutes, but as their movements get more sloppy, there is an opportunity, and Cato penetrates through Peeta's skin like butter. Blood begins to thickly pour out of his left thigh and as he falls to the ground, you can tell he won't be lasting through this fight much longer. Cato stands on his shins, pinning him down, while his sword is raised high above him, poised for impact. But none comes. Instead, Cato laughs.

'You're history anyway, Lover Boy,' he snarls. Then he kicks Peeta several times in the chest before crazily running up from the valley, to where I know the lake is. Peeta half-runs and half-stumbles his way into the main part of the woods, and keeps going.

I wait five, ten, fifteen minutes in case anybody returns, but no one does. Cautiously, I climb down and then walk over to the lake. One, two, three, four Careers lie aimlessly around their camp. They're as good as dead for all the damage they can do to me now.

Kneeling down beside the lake's edge, I scoop up water to my mouth and slowly drink; I wish I still had the water bottles. The water seems to slip too quickly through my cupped hands and everything else goes too slow. Eventually I lift myself up and gather supplies from the Careers again. Just apples, because they're in such great quantities that nobody shall ever notice. All the Careers still sleep from the tracker jackers' venom. It occurs to me that I could take them down if I wanted. It'd be easy. Just use their weapons against themselves and they're all done. But I can't bring myself to do it. In sleep, even they look innocent; I guess they are in a way – we all are. And fourteen tributes are already sleeping innocently for ever, many thanks to them.

After another quick drink, I set back off into the woods, resorting to stuffing the stolen apples into my now-bulging trouser pockets; I really need to find myself another pack. Trekking onwards, I pass the pond I met Steal-a-name-niss by, but I'm not thirsty, so I continue on without stopping.

A couple of kilometres in, I spot a greenish mound. Must be moss on a rock. That might be edible, though I'll have to closely examine it first. I have almost reached it when I hear a noise, almost like a whisper. 'Kuh-nee...' No, not _like _a whisper, it actually _is _a whisper, and it's close-by too. 'Kuh-nee...' It's the green mound. 'Kat-niss...' It's Peeta. Peeta is the green mound. I can't help but sigh in disappointment that he isn't moss.

* * *

I have been dragging Peeta Mellark for over five hours. And it's only because he didn't point me and Raven out when he spotted us in that bush on the first night. If he'd just dobbed us in to the Careers, maybe I wouldn't be going through such a struggle now. They say muscle weighs more than fat, and quite frankly now I'm starting to believe them, dragging Peeta. But I've got him to a stream now, so I reckon I can call it quits. I'm glad he already made it pretty far on his own. But we're even now. So I can leave him here, safe from danger and with a water supply of sorts. He should feel grateful for this. Even though he won't know. Maybe he'll think it was his precious Katniss that brought him here. The idea of it makes me want to vomit. I'm never falling in love with anyone.

I want to drink from the stream to quench my thirst, but there seems to be something particularly uninviting about it. So I head back towards the pond, cautiously checking around me as I go for any threats. It isn't long before night begins to fall, the sky darkening at an unnatural speed. The Gamemakers probably think the sooner this day ends, the sooner the next shall start and the sooner more 'entertainment' will commence. I take cover in a bush of poisonous berries as the anthem plays and the Capitol seal appears in the sky. Glimmer's face, along with the number 1, show up for about ten seconds before fading back to blackness. It doesn't show how she died, but I already worked it out anyway. Steal-a-name-niss must have dropped the tracker-jackers directly on Glimmer, who got the worst-stung – so much it lead to death – of the group.

I'm glad I never settled in that tree, or else my nightmares might have more than just sheep and dogs and snow and lightning and deserts and birds. And that's what I dream of tonight, in the bitter cold, only I don't fully awake from the last one. I still search for my grey raven, which is stupid because ravens are black and it wasn't even a real bird. But I could still do with something – or someone – to guide me.

* * *

Maple on oak. I've found it. There's a maple leaf on an oak tree. Below the tree is a large bush with a small opening in it, so small you wouldn't even notice it unless if you were the one who created it. Which I was. Because it's our camp. Taking deep, slow breaths, I crawl into the bush.

I don't know what I expected to find. The packs, maybe. Perhaps I was even dumb enough to expect to find _him_. But neither the packs nor Raven reside here. Just the dirt and the fading scent of human sweat, now being taken over by a pollen-y smell. I have realised that I do not like pollen, as it makes me sneeze beyond recognition. I back out of our once camp and just stand up.

Raven isn't there. It's sinking in. The packs aren't there. I've lost hope. The Careers must have killed him the night of the fire, and run off with our packs for good measure. Why else wouldn't he have stayed here? It's a decent enough camp as camps go, especially by some of the Hunger Games' standards. Once, one guy had a 'camp' which was basically a few leaves in between two stood-up sticks, and then beside a pond. No surprise the Careers got him on the first night.

I walk in no particular direction, kicking leaves and staring at the ground as I go. I don't need water – I got that from my pond, which now tastes vaguely like blood. I don't need food either – there's still three apples left. I think I'm just moving to keep myself busy. Or maybe I just don't want to stay around here any longer.

I walk and walk and walk and walk until I'm so tired I just collapse against a tree trunk. And then I can't contain it. I shouldn't cry, but I do. Not loudly, like a little child that wants attention, but almost silently, because I just can't help it. I would be even more of an easy prey than usual to any nearby tribute now.

After maybe ten minutes, I hear a noise in between my many sniffles. A rustle. And a bush moves in sync with it. But there isn't any wind. Which means there's either a tribute or an animal in it. Which is bad. I don't exactly want to, but I know I'll have to face it. So I summon up my courage and stand up. Wiping my face of tears, I slowly progress towards the bush, not knowing if I shall find friend or foe. I brace myself as I spread apart the leaves to peek in.

And I'm not certain if it's friend or foe.

Because it's not a tribute or an animal.

It's both.

It is my grey Raven.

And he has plunged me into a headlock.

* * *

**;-)**

**Codeword is sharpener.**

**Review please!**


	16. Fireworks

**It's chapter 16! And to those of you that I haven't said it to yet, I thought I'd let you know that I have written a plan of everything else that shall now happen in this story, and it goes on and off of canon. As in really, it isn't canon but it will contain a lot of canon events. I hope that makes sense!**

**Big shout-out to: Crazyllamapersonlol! The Phantom Mockingjay! kitkat1425! CloveDiedForYourSins! MissDizzyD! zep182! FireBreadandSnares! nb1998! pinkgiraffe10! newbie11! callie0612! You guys get virtual... uh... *searches for inspiration* ...virtual garlic bread! And I'll even throw in some virtual breath-mints to sweeten the deal! :-D**

* * *

Chapter Sixteen – Fireworks

I let out a high-pitched squeal and beat against Raven's arms to be freed. He lets go and begins to speak as I turn around to face him. "Sorry, little Foxy," he says, "I didn't know it was you."

"Ahem!" I cough, "Wasn't the hair a bit of a giveaway?"

"Well, no, not really. It's hanging on the verge of being brown now."

I grab a bit of hair and hold it in front of my face. He's right, it is virtually brown, and I know why. "Oh, that must be because of the m-UDDD!" I suddenly fly into the air, elevated by Raven's arms.

"You're alive!" He exclaims, joy in his voice.

"So are you!" I reply, feeling like I might cry again. Raven gently places me back down on the ground once more, before his fingers rush to his neck. I wait a few seconds, then ask, "What are you doing?"

"Just double-checking I'm still alive for you."

"Oh, come off it!" I say, "When have I ever been wrong?"

"Well, ah..." Raven starts, but trails off quickly. After a few moments, he says, "Can you say something wrong now so that I can use that as an example?" I laugh. Raven can make me laugh in a way that no one else can.

* * *

We're back in our bush camp again now, and it's past nightfall. We snuggle in our sleeping bag, feeding off the other's warmth. I now know that Raven had been looking for me, and took the packs along with him in case we couldn't go back for them. He survived on the supplies, using the apples' juices as an alternative to water. He hadn't gotten particularly far because of his leg, and when I found him he had been hiding from what he suspected to be Careers, but was actually me. I try to take this as a compliment. But Raven didn't much fancy his chances against the Careers with just a rock, even if it was sharp. I told him about getting water and not waking him and the fire and the cannon and the pond and Steal-a-name-niss and the tracker-jacker tree and Glimmer and Peeta. My story was considerably more exciting than his, but neither one of us pointed this out. Raven told me that on the day that he didn't die it was actually Silas that did, since I slept through the anthem. So now we are both up-to-date on everything that's happened. As I sleep tonight, I have one less nightmare than the last time I slept.

When I awake, it is still night, and the sleeping bag feels cooler. At first I panic that Raven has disappeared, or yesterday was some sort of illusion, but then I spot his dark silhouette sat outside the entrance to our hideout. I unzip the sleeping bag and crawl to sit beside him. Not turning, he says, "You should be sleeping."

"So should you." His face is illuminated in the moonlight as he looks at me.

"I'm keeping guard."

"We don't need to guard. If people come to kill us, they come to kill us. Our only weapon is a rock. I don't think it will make much difference guarding, except we'll just end up tired."

"Well, I'm keeping guard anyway."

"Then so will I," I say. How ridiculous we must seem to people watching. But we just sit there in silence, not uttering a word for what seems like hours. Then Raven says something out of the blue.

"Do you reckon we could win this?" he asks, turning to face me. We. He didn't say 'one of us'. He said 'we'. 'We' means a team. But teams don't win the Hunger Games. They can't. It's impossible. But that doesn't stop what I say next from coming out.

"Yeah." I smile, "Me, you – we're a team." Then, without warning, I feel something stirring up inside of me. An urge. An urge to get closer. An urge to touch. Slowly, I lean in towards Raven, as he does the same to me. We both tilt our heads slightly to either side, and when I'm just a few centimetres away from him, he licks his lips instinctively. I back off slightly.

"Ew," I say. "No way am I kissing them. They've got Raven spit on them." I reach out my left hand and softly wipe away the excess moisture from his lips, never breaking eye-contact. I let my fingers cursor through his matted, grey hair, but then make them lock on and I hold him there as I close my eyes and lean in. My lips meet his and then our tongues dance and intertwine together like some strange force has taken control of us. It's really quite a repulsive idea to think about, but in action in just makes everything make sense, and yet make no sense at all. And I swear that I can feel fireworks. Feel them, hear them, see them, as though we really have won these Games and they're celebrating our victory. But then as we pull away, they dwindle down and die into nothing. But that doesn't not make it magical.

"Wow," I say.

* * *

It can't be any later than seven in the morning and already we've packed all our stuff up. The sleeping bag... the food... everything is now in our packs which we have slung over our backs. We are not risking losing them any more.

Just as we are about to leave our camp, there is the sound of three pairs of thumping, charging feet. Career feet. We huddle together, not daring to even breathe in the presence of our enemies, whom have paused less than ten metres away. We listen to the talking (well, more arguing than anything) but we stay calm. They can't see us. They can't hear us. They can't smell us. We are safe. Or so I thought. I can feel pollen starting to make my eyes itch and my nostrils tingle. My throat feels likes it's being blocked off. My eyes close by reflex as I let out a loud and high-pitched "Atch-oo!" I've killed us now. Darn.

I can hear Cato's rough voice escaping from the outside and getting louder as he gets closer, closer, closer. "I heard you, little tribute. Want to come out and play?" he says. My heart thumps inside my chest. This isn't happening, isn't happening.

"I bagsy this one!" yells Marvel's voice.

"Fine, unless it's _her,_" says Cato, "just make sure they have it slow." Marvel laughs, and I can hear him edging towards us on his own.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" he taunts, "Come on out, Sneezy." Raven turns to me, fear in his eyes, along with something else I can't quite recognize. Desperation, perhaps? I don't know. He smiles for a moment, looking at me. A half-hearted smile, with no teeth showing. Nothing like his usual cheeky grins after he's just cracked a joke.

"Seems you're pretty good at manipulating people," says Raven. Then he wipes away my full fringe to kiss my forehead intently. Before running out into the Careers.

I almost scream out for him, but just manage to stop myself. Because what would be the point of his action if I simply gave myself away? His sacrifice would be totally in vain. And I must make certain that it will not.

"Oh, it's Ten," says Clove, "you sneeze like a girl, Ten." I don't want to look, but my body seems to disagree with my mind, as I find myself staring out at the scene through the leaves, unable to move away, or even blink. A dry lump forms in my throat.

"And we already got your girl, didn't we, Ten?" says Cato, smirking. His girl? He must mean Rose... "Slit her throat right on day 1." It makes me squirm to hear his lies. Because I know that isn't how Rose died. I most definitely know that isn't how Rose died. Because it's hard to forget how somebody died when you were the one holding the weapon. Am I holding the weapon now? Am I holding the weapon for Raven? No. I _am _the weapon. I was so sure that nothing like this would happen, but maybe that's what made it lead up to this point anyway. Perhaps if I'd been more wary... but part of me feels that this would always have happened. But it should be me out there. Not Raven. It should be me. I wish it were me.

"Yeah, surprised you haven't already joined her to put District 10 out of its misery," sneers Marvel, "of course, that'll be happening pretty soon besides." Raven merely stands on his good leg and observes him. After a few moments, Marvel speaks again, "not much of a talker, are you?"

"Well duh, Marvel," says Clove, frustrated, "he's the retarded one that barely said anything in his interview. His head's just like his leg. Now would you just get on with it? It's getting boring just watching you talk to that asshole."

Marvel swears at her and then carries on, "Right, Ten. We were just wondering if you wanted to play 'Spears and Hearts'. It's easy, see. This is the spear-" Marvel waggles the spear about in his right hand "-and it's going to play with your heart!" Before Marvel can even poise the spear in the air, Raven goes off like a shot, faster than I've ever seen him go before. _He's getting them away from you, _says a voice in my head, _he's saving your life. _But this little voice goes unnoticed as I can do nothing but focus on Raven's progressing figure getting caught up to by the Careers. And they grab him by the collar, throttling him as they turn him around. I can't help but remember just a couple of mornings ago when I lightly strangled him, only now it is far more violent. Marvel projects his spear through the air and it enters Raven's body. But just before it does, I see him mouth three little words in my direction. And I know that they are meant for me. So I whisper four little words back in reply as Marvel withdraws his weapon from Raven's bleeding and slightly-twitching body.

"Ah, red," I can just about hear Marvel saying, "what say we give you a little bit of face-paint?" And just like that, something clicks. I can't watch any more, and I don't need to. I've seen enough of the Hunger Games to know how this shall go. So I run as fast and as far away from them as I can.

I should feel sadness. Despair. Shock. Horror. Devastation. But all I can feel is anger, pulsing through me. And rage. And fury and anguish. And I know that I have to get revenge. For Raven. And Ivan too for that matter – he might not have died if it weren't for Marvel. I dive into a bush and it's actually a relief when I hear the cannon. Because now I know for definite. Marvel Tomag must die. And I must be holding the weapon.

The fireworks simmering in my head explode into bombs.

* * *

**:-'(**

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	17. Supplies

**I've got chapter 17 coming right up for you now! Crazyllamapersonlol, MissDizzyD, 'Guest', FireBreadandSnares, newbie11, zep182, PeetasCupcake, DizzyPotter, pinkgiraffe10, The Phantom Mockingjay, callie0612 and JazzHearts (why the name change?) all get a virtual dish of virtual lasagne each! (don't worry, it's suitable for virtual vegetarians)**

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**Hope you like this chapter! :-D**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen – Supplies

_I follow a grey raven through a scorching desert. Sand blows into my eyes and the grains get lodged between my teeth as I slowly progress onwards. The bird still flies and guides me, and I trust it with all my heart to take me home._

_All of a sudden, the grey raven disappears into nothing. I call for it, but it does not return. I can't survive without it. I need my raven to guide me through this mass of sandy yellow. But I can't find him..._

_Yes I can. I find a miniscule grey dot in the distance, and run towards it. It's okay, I'm safe, there he is waiting for me. But then I reach the raven and he lies flat on his back, wings splayed out, eyes closed. And blood starts to pore out of his stomach, abdomen, head, chest, everywhere, until it turns the whole desert into a red river that I am swept away in. I get further and further away, struggling against the liquid's movements, because I can't swim, I can't swim. Just as I go under, my gasping mouth filling with blood, the flow of fluid starts to subside. It rapidly grows shallow, and the sky gets darker, filling with... leaves..._

_The blood soon trickles away and leaves no evidence whatsoever that it had ever existed. But I know it did._

_I run and run and run through the dense forest, searching, searching. For what? I'll soon find out. I find an oak tree with a bush beside it and dart into it. There I find a sleeping figure in a sleeping bag. Grey hair sticks out of the top-end. I shake the bag and Raven crawls out of it, smiling his lovely cheeky grin that I have missed. He holds me tight in a cuddle that I feel totally safe in, and don't ever want to leave. He lets my hair go loose and his fingers softly run through my hair like they were a fairy's, not an eighteen-year-old boy's. I close my eyes in contentment. But then his touch feels different. His body is more muscular, too muscular so that it feels disgusting. I open my eyes and turn my head to see his face, but he grabs me by the hair and pulls hard. The bush around us has disappeared and he lets me dangle on nothing but my fire-red wires._

"_Now, now, we mustn't hurt people, must we, Medea?" Marvel's voice echoes Ainsley's words of many weeks ago. So it's Marvel. I manage to somehow spin myself around in the air and kick him hard, right in the place that never sees sunshine. He instantly drops me to the ground as his hands rush to protect the damaged parts. Suddenly, another Marvel appears behind me and I flip round, but he doesn't attack me, he just walks over to the other Marvel and laughs. Then they both transform into Raven and I can't remember which one was the one hurting me and they both tell me that they're the real Raven and you have to get rid of the doppelganger. So I do what any confused and panicked girl would do and kick the nearest one and hope for the best. But then he flies backwards as my shoe flies off and turns into a spear that stabs him in the stomach as he screams out for me. I run over to him and say I'm so sorry and I didn't know what to do and it wasn't my fault and I hold him as he dies and kiss him to try to wake him but it doesn't work because he can't ever wake up and the whole time all I can hear is Marvel's manic laugh at our tragedy._

* * *

"Who do you think that was?" A voice nearby awakes me from my very short slumber. The cannon only went off a few minutes ago. I think.

"I don't know. It could have been any of the others," says a second, more sing-songy, voice that hints at belonging to a little girl, "I guess we'll know tonight." That must be Rue.

"Who's left again?" enquires the first voice. Ah, I know who it is now, having reheard them. The accent is unmistakeable. District 12. It's Steal-a-name-niss.

"The boy from District One. Both tributes from Two. The boy from Three. Thresh and me. And you and Peeta," I hear Rue reply. "That's eight. Wait, and the boy from Ten, the one with the bad leg. He makes nine." I wait for one of them to say, "Oh, and Medea". Or "don't forget about the girl from District Five!" Even "the ginger one's still in" would be welcome. But there's just a long pause. Then Rue speaks again, "I wonder how that last one died."

"No telling," says Steal-a-name-niss. Liar. Just walk around twenty metres to your left and you'll find an amber-eyed girl who can tell you. Sadly.

The two allies keep talking, and their conversation soon flips to breakfast, so I head off walking to eat my own. My pack is near-empty on food supplies, so I run towards the lake. There, I find no other than Cuthbert Number One. He is digging and filling in holes around a pyramid of supplies that now resides about thirty metres from the Careers' main camp. The layout mimics the arrangement of the Cornucopia's supplies at the start. Giant lumps can be found all over his skin, presumably from tracker-jacker stings. Of course, he must have been the fourth 'Career' that I saw by the lake, as Silas was actually already dead. And now it seems he really is a Career. And they've got him doing some sort of job here. Let's work out what it is. I have a train of thought.

District Three. Technology. Factories. Smoke. Chimneys. Pollution. District Five. Pneumonia. Medicines. District Three. Factories. Televisions. Computers. Medicines. Bombs. Mines. Explosives. Boom. Eureka.

My eyes shift to the metal plates around the Cornucopia, and just as I expected, I can see mounds of dirt around the perimeter of each. Hah-hah. The Gamemakers have finally been outsmarted. Well, that is if Cuthbert Number One has actually reactivated them. Though I suspect he has. Either through a gut feeling or a subconscious assessment, I know that the mines are live.

For some time, I simply observe where Cuthbert Number One places his traps, and work out where the others must be through his movements. It seems he's finished now, because he just goes and sits over where the Careers sleep, their main camp. Great. That means I can have a go.

I stick my head out so it's blatantly obvious and look from side to side before happily skipping out into the open. Cuthbert Number One flinches at first, but cools down to normal when he sees it's me. Because he knows from our earlier encounter that I'm simple-minded. And a simple-minded girl with only a two in training isn't a threat. Though you can tell he's surprised I'm still alive.

"Hi!" I say, and wave. He merely nods back in return. I rush to the lake, making sure I'm on the opposite side to him while I drink – I don't want to take any chances that he'll drown me now that he's sided with the Careers. I wash the mud from my hair that I first did for 'camouflage' – I can't say it worked especially well. I look across to Cuthbert Number One. "Where'd you get that from?" I ask, pointing to a packet of crackers beside him, like I'm so dumb I can't notice a massive pile of supplies. Cuthbert Number One sneers and the look on his face says, 'ha, you're going to be an easy kill now'.

"Over there," points Cuthbert Number One, "There's tons of the stuff!" I smile.

"Thanks," I say, "You're so smart, knowing that." I walk over to the pyramid of supplies, "Here?" I ask. Cuthbert Number One nods. "It seems awfully muddy." Cuthbert Number One's look of anticipation and excitement makes me feel both mentally and physically sick. My heart beats faster as I stare upon the task ahead of me. What if I forget where to go? What if I misplace my footing? What if Medea Travex becomes aMvaTederex, all blown up and mashed together in the wrong places? No, that won't happen. It can't. I won't let it. I close my eyes and lift my leg to take a step. Then I open my eyes, because closing my eyes would be stupid. Right. Now remember...

Two steps forward. Left, two, three, four. Hop back. Diagonal left. Zig-zag forward, zig-zag forward. Leap. Leap. Shuffle to the right. Hop. Shuffle to the left. Hop. Fall to your belly, roll, roll. Stand up, jump and done. Hm. That was surprisingly easy. I fill up my pack with apples, crackers, some cheese and a slightly-green bread roll, making sure not to take too much so that the Careers notice. Then I repeat my routine backwards until I'm out of the danger zone. I turn to see Cuthbert Number One staring, mouth ajar in astonishment and awe. Hm... should I? What the heck, I'm dead anyway. I smile my cunning smile to Cuthbert Number One, then curtsey, "Who's looking dumb now?" I joke, then skip speedily into the forest before he can recover. His face! Comedy gold. But my amusement is short-lived as the Careers – the 'proper' Careers – run back from their hunt. Anger broils inside of me when I see Marvel so happily running after the slaughter he has just committed. _Make the most of it, Marvel, _I think, _the fun won't last much longer. And neither will your life, not when I get you cornered. _Oooo, I sound dark.

The proper Careers run to their camp and Cuthbert Number One tells them it's done, referring to the booby trap. He doesn't mention me. Well, you wouldn't want to say somebody had already outsmarted your 'fool-proof' protection. Cuthbert Number One shows them all the path to the supplies, and they all practise for when they need food later. They do take out some food – enough for a full meal and some dried fruit for in their packs. My, how amazed I am by their resourcefulness. Watching them eat makes me hungry, so I eat a quarter of what I have gathered. If I somehow survive this, I don't ever want to see an apple again.

* * *

It's been several hours and many near-attacks on Marvel (I thought better of them all) when the Careers begin to argue after Cato points out smoke in the distance. They're fighting about whether Cuthbert Number One comes with them or not.

"He's coming. We need him in the woods, and his job's done here anyway. No one can touch those supplies," says Cato.

"What about Lover Boy?" says Marvel.

"I keep telling you, forget about him. I know where I cut him. It's a miracle he hasn't bled to death yet. At any rate, he's in no shape to raid us. Come on," says Cato, thrusting a spear in Cuthbert Number One's hands before they enter the woods, "When we find her, I kill her in my own way, and no one interferes." Hah. They think Steal-a-name-niss lit the fire. Not true. I saw her come settle in the brush ages ago. But I can tell, since she's here on her own, that her partner-in-crime will have done it. They have some sort of plan going on. It's to do with the supplies. Raiding them? No, that's too simplistic for her tastes. Which means that she and Rue are trying to destroy them. Cool. Give the rest of us a chance to win. But how will she know how to destroy them? How will she know about the mines? I ponder for tens of minutes, planning out what I must do. After half an hour, I know it's time.

I creep out onto the plain and act out checking the coast is clear, then dash forwards to the supplies. She'd better be watching. I find the right starting space, take a deep breath, and begin my routine; it's different this time – longer – so Steal-a-name-niss and her arrows have time to figure it out. I only feel nervous when I reach the barrel, because I'll have to make it seem like I've overshot without actually doing so. It is the only way she'll work out it's underground, and therefore mines. I leap, and tip my foot as I land to propel myself onto my hands. The cry of "eek!" is only half-acted. I hippity-hop over to the supplies and take the same amount as I did last time, going slowly on the apples so Steal-a-name-niss gets a good old look at the burlap sack hanging off the bin. Even though it's my last chance, I don't take any extra, in case Steal-a-name-niss figures out she's being used. I dance my way out, and hide by the woods' edge to make sure my plan follows through. Which it does. Eventually. Another fire's letting off smoke by the time she has the plan.

Arrow one makes a tear in the side of the material, near the top. Arrow two opens the tear to a gaping hole and an apple teeters, barely staying in. I don't wait for the third shot, but run with my hands over my ears into the forest's depths, because who knows for certain how large the range of the trap will be? I've not been running long at all when a fast rush of air makes me fly forwards, and luckily my arms flex so I land on my palms. The quick air compression is accompanied by a near-deafening chorus of booms (though if I were any closer, it could well have stopped my hearing) and a heavily-vibrating ground that won't stop for over a minute. I cling on to a few dying clumps of grass for some sort of support through the terror, and even after it stops I don't break my grasp for several moments. I'm shaky as I stand up and dust myself off. I turn my head and see that I'm actually only about fifty metres from where I watched the arrows. I walk slowly over, feeling unsteady and light-headed. If I tried running now I'd probably puke right on the spot.

Another mine explodes, but without comrades, it doesn't affect me much. A second stray mine goes off when I reach my spy-spot. A fog of grey smoke clouds my vision, but if it's this bad, it must mean my plan has succeeded well. A final mine does its work just as all the Careers thunder through the woods several hundred metres to my left, right where the arrows came from. I can't help but hope that Steal-a-name-niss is all right, I suppose because it's my fault she even did this.

Cato bursts onto the plain, swearing and cursing with such extremity that I'd never repeat it to anybody. He screams like a madman (which he might well be) and tears out his hair. He throws himself to the ground and beats the earth with both his hands and feet. He's like a two-year-old having a tantrum. It reminds me of when Myra was little and dropped her cookie – a rare treat, even in those days – in the mud, and demanded another one, or else she'd "scream and scream until I'm sick". It was a bit brattish really, but you can't exactly criticize her when she's only one-and-a-half. I wonder what Myra's doing now? There are only two options, to be honest; she's either at school, or tensely watching the TV. Well, she has to. Am I on a lot? In a way I hope I am, but don't in another. But what does Myra think of me now? What does dad? I know I don't have any sponsors. Well, unless if somebody's done one of those collections in District Five again. I hope so. At least I'll know I'm sort of liked, maybe even loved. If I focus on District Five, all those hopeful faces, maybe it will be enough to get me through this and win.

* * *

I'm in the final eight. Cuthbert Number One is dead. Cato snapped his neck like a toothpick once he found his trap had completely backfired. Now I see his face in the sky. A mere ten-second image, no more.

Then Raven appears. This time yesterday I was snuggled up next to him in a sleeping bag. Times change. I stare at his face and try to feel something, anything. I want to say something to this last vision of him in the sky. Something compassionate, loving, so he'll know I'm carrying on for him. But I can't say anything. I don't know if I am carrying on for him. Maybe I'm just carrying on for myself. Maybe I never felt anything. Maybe I'm just a statue. A ghost. Because I can't feel anything at all. Raven disappears. I don't even wonder about if I'll ever see him again. I just think about how amazing it would be to kill Marvel.

And that's totally normal, isn't it?

The arena isn't getting to me.

Not at all.

I'm still the same girl that got her name pulled out at the reaping.

That joked about her escort with her district partner.

That liked a boy with a crippled leg. A lot.

That caught pneumonia when she was ten.

That went into a coma.

That woke up in a coffin in the undertakers'.

That doesn't particularly like small spaces. AT ALL.

That throws up getting out of that small bush once the Careers go hunting.

I'm still that same sane girl.

* * *

I freeze during the night without the sleeping bag. It's either with the Careers or blown up right now. I may as well see what's left of their supplies, I suppose. Walking over, I see something shine in the rubble. I go over to it, and find a knife blade. I laugh. Now I'm armed. The Careers really are rubbish at searching. And look, over there – a metal pot. I'm not sure what use it will be, but it's better to have it than not have it, I guess. There is a rustle from the woods. Steal-a-name-niss. I forgot she was there. How stupid of me! Now she's lining up her arrow, I can see it from the corner of my eye. A tiny tip pointing out from the brush. What do I do? What do I do? Don't panic, don't panic. Act like you're totally under control. She can't see your face, she's behind you. Breathe deep. Turn around. Smile jokingly. I do.

"I do know you're there, you know!" I yell to the arrowhead.

* * *

**So... I hope you liked the chapter! I did Medea's weird dance in my garden X-D It went... well...**

**Codeword is: notepad!**

**And most of you got it right on what Medea and Raven said last chapter :-) :-(**

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	18. Bonding With Katniss?

**Wow. I was trying to upload this last night, and I was just reading it through, checking for any mistakes, I'm on the second-to-last page, and then all of a sudden it's half-past six in the morning and I'm watching Phinley the fire engine because I killed the remote. It was actually entertaining! Yeah, so I fell asleep even though I wasn't tired. AT ALL. So I'm uploading now. Yay!**

**I was inspired on the last two days of term. We got to choose what to do and I did DofE, which is basically camping and hiking. We played manhunt and I won every time I wasn't searching. :-D So maybe I would be alright in the Hunger Games. But I was inspired by the fence I hid by and the fact the boys kept trying to chase, kill and eat the squirrels. Then I realised they kind of already happened in THG :-S**

**Sorry the A/N is so long, :-L I just like talking, and this is like talking for me. CloveDiedForYourSins, FireBreadandSnares, Crazyllamapersonlol, nb1998, ILovePeeta0000, pinkgiraffe10, newbie11, Emberheart1425, zep182, DizzyPotter, 'Katnipfan1' and 'Guest' all get a virtual... um... buffet from the Capitol. Don't forget to go to the toilets to throw up!**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen – Bonding with Katniss?

The arrow disappears into the leaves. After a few moments, a girl with grey eyes and a dark side-braid steps out and walks until she's only ten metres away. She's tall – at least for me standards – and there's that look in her eyes that says she means business. That means she might still shoot me. Oh dear.

Oh dear? You're going to die and all you can think is 'oh dear'? Not as bad as thinking about thinking 'oh dear' I guess, but I just did that too. Oh shut up, brain! You think too much! I have to find a way of not getting shot by Steal-a-name-niss, as randomly running away is now not an option. Think, think, think. All I do is think. Sometimes I think so much I don't even realise I'm thinking about stuff; that is until it turns up after being figured out in a distant corner of my mind. I'll be in the middle of a test and then suddenly remember where I left that other sock. Come to think of it, I think I lost a sock on the morning of the reaping as well...

I hear a noise from behind us, and instinctively turn towards it. I stuff the bowl and knife blade in my pack, then sling it over my shoulder. "We need to move," I say, and run towards the woods. This kind of running could work. Steal-a-name-niss hesitates a moment, stunned by my reaction I guess, but she runs pretty fast and reaches the trees just moments after me.

"What's out there, then?" asks Steal-a-name-niss.

"Fields of crops and stuff that's edible. Thresh is out there too, so better safe than sorry," I answer her, and she nods. Hm. This is news to me. How did I figure that one out? _Because you haven't seen Thresh since the beginning and he didn't enter the woods and he couldn't be by the lake or Cornucopia so he must have gone over the drop-off. And that drop-off must have led to fields of crops because Thresh is still alive which means he must have food and he's from District 11 which means he knows fields and it would just make sense. _Wow! I'm smart. _Plus you also heard the Careers talking about it. _Well, kind of smart, anyway.

"Where's Rue?" I ask.

Steal-a-name-niss narrows her eyes and frowns. "How...?"

"Just a hunch," I say. Well, I don't want her to think I've been stalking her, because I haven't, she just has a habit of _being _everywhere.

"She'll be at our rendezvous point," says Steal-a-name-niss. There's a long pause. Something has to happen now. And if Steal-a-name-niss isn't ma-, uh, woman enough to do it, then I will be.

"Want to team up?" I ask. Make or break point. The invitation hangs in the air like a bad smell.

"Okay," she says after a moment. She doesn't trust me. Her speech has that sort of taste. "We, um, need to meet Rue, so..." she thinks, "let's head to the stream first." I nod and allow her to lead the way, but then walk by her side; I don't think she'd let me walk behind. But even if I was more certain of where the stream was I'd never let her go behind me either. It feels like I need to watch her. There's just something about her that makes me sure befriending Steal-a-name-niss could ultimately get me an arrow in the back. If it comes down to that, I'll have to make sure she gets a knife in her own back first, as bad as it sounds.

We've been walking for a while, when Steal-a-name-niss (should I stop calling her that?) asks me if I'm hungry, and I realise I haven't eaten since last night. I've learnt to bleep out hunger. When I don't answer, Steal-a-name-niss hands me some meat. "Here," she says, "you look starving." I do? Did not know that.

"Thanks," I say, and as I eat it, I realise I am starving, but even more so thirsty. I open my pack and take out two apples. If I suck out the juices, it could be a suitable alternative to water for a while. I tap Steal-a-name-niss on the shoulder, and before I know it, she's turned around and an arrow is just inches away from my nose. "Er, apple?" I squeak, extending my arm to offer one to her.

"Thank you," she says, snatching it. She doesn't apologise for the whole arrow-in-the-face thing. "Oh," she continues, "and you might want to get out that knife blade. We don't know what trouble we might run into." I knew that! I just didn't want her to feel... intimidated. It takes all my strength not to mimic her tone of voice out loud. 'You might want to get out that knife blade, oooh, I'm so much cleverer than you, ooh, I'm like a naggy mother.' Who does she think she is? If she keeps that up, Stabby McStabbington might visit her very soon...

* * *

"Right, pass me your water bottle and I'll fill it up."

I stand still. Katniss (I have to stop thinking Steal-a-name-niss in case I say it out loud) looks back up at me questioningly. "Water bottle?" she repeats.

"Lost it," I say, "in the fire."

"But that was ages ago!" Katniss exclaims, "What have you been drinking?"

I shrug. "This and that."

"You just drank straight from the source?" she shakes her head in dismay, "you need iodine for drinking!"

"Well, I didn't have any." Katniss seems to be taking this way too seriously. What harm's a bit of water going to do?

"Let me feel your forehead," she says.

"No."

"Let me feel your forehead!"

"No!"

Katniss jumps up from her kneeling position anyway, and rests her freezing knuckles across my forehead. "You're burning up!"

"I'm fine! Really!" If I wasn't well, I would know by now, wouldn't I? Raven would have told me. I would just know.

Katniss rootsthrough my bag. "Hey!" I say, "That's mine!" but she continues to root.

"Aha!" she exclaims, lifting out the first aid kit. Judging by the look on her face as she opens it, she's a little out of her depth, but soon plucks something out. "Open wide!"

"There is no way I am taking anything. There is nothing wro-" Katniss stuffs the tablet into my mouth and blocks it off, along with my nostrils. I have no choice but to swallow, because Stabby McStabbington has dropped to the ground.

"There," she says uncertainly, letting me go and putting away the kit, "that should kill some of the germs off." She pauses. "Maybe." Kneeling back down by the stream, she fills her bottle and adds in some iodine. Then she starts to clean her ear – I guess it got hurt in the explosion. I sit down cross-legged in the slightly-wet earth, not quite wet enough to be classed as mud, but still wet none the less. Suddenly, Katniss bolts like she's forgotten something urgent.

"What is it?" I ask.

"The fire," she says, and removes a small plastic pot from her bag. She hands it to me. "For the burns," she says.

"Oh!" I say. I shake my head, "no, I didn't get burnt."

"But you said you ran into the fire?" I laugh at the irony of what she just said.

"Oh, I ran into it, all right."

* * *

I nibble on a fish as we follow the course of the stream. Katniss shot three fish as we walked along, and she's eating hers now too. The third is Rue's. I walk behind Katniss now – 'so we can take cover easily if we have to' – and she's been leaving a big trail of muddy boot prints as the wet earth turned into mud along the way. Luckily I had this covered. I made slits in the tongues of my boots, the end near the toe, and then slipped them on backwards. The shoes were big on me to start with, so now they're much more comfortable. And if anybody sees our footprints, they'll think we were moving away from our destination, wherever that is.

After a while, Katniss stops. "What is it?" I ask.

"We must be leaving tracks."

"Oh," I say. Katniss turns around to see the long line of double-deep backwards boot prints.

"What the-?" she starts, but then I simply point to my feet. "Oh."

I smile, "so how far to your 'rendezvous point'?"

* * *

Katniss combs through her hair with her fingers. I drink. I comb my hair with my fingers. Katniss drinks. We wait for Rue. Katniss is nervous, I can tell. If it weren't for the fact that we're up in a tree, I think she'd be pacing. I feel I need to distract her.

"Do you like mockingjays?" I ask, pointing to her pin. She snaps out of a trance.

"Oh, um, yes, I guess." She pauses. "My father used to sing to them. And they sang back. Why? Do they have them in District Five?"

"As if!" I laugh. Katniss returns my answer with a half-hurt, half-just-plain-confused look. "Sorry," I say, "I guess you wouldn't know. It's just, the only things that live in District Five are human beings. Stupid, stinking, human beings. Half the population dies from lung infections, it's so polluted. That's the reason we're one of the richer districts. They pay you more because there's less possible workers. Didn't stop _me_ needing tesserae, of course." I shake my head. "I guess it must be worse in Twelve, though. I mean, mines must still mean some pollution, and as you're the poorest district... you can't see much wildlife either."

Katniss wriggles uncomfortably. "More than you might expect," she says.

* * *

"Right!" Katniss says, clambering down from our branch. It's late afternoon. "Rue must have gotten stuck somewhere." She jumps down to the ground. "Come on, we need to find her!" I follow her lead as she scatters some of the mint leaves we've both been sucking on. "So she'll know we've been here," Katniss says, as though this explains everything. Doesn't explain how I put my odd sock in the fridge on reaping day.

We head off towards where Katniss says the third fire is. After a long time, Katniss speaks. She actually seems more talkative than I thought she would be. "It must seem weird, I guess," she says as we continue walking, "I mean, the way I am with Rue. It's just-"

"I know," I say, "she reminds you of your sister, 'Prim'."

"How do you know about Prim?" she asks defensively. I resist sighing, because the whole of Panem probably knows about the sister of the 'girl on fire'. But they won't know the sister of the girl with the fiery hair, not really, even if they've started the family interviews. So I answer her with a question instead.

"How don't you know about Myra?"

"Who's Myra?"

"My sister. She's eight."

"I didn't know..." she says.

"Oh, it's fine, Katniss," I lie. There's a pause.

"Sorry, but what's your name? I kind of keep calling you this nickname I made up."

"Which is?"

"Foxface." Oh, yes, of _course _you made it up, Katniss. It definitely wasn't Ainsley and her troupe of bullies. It wasn't even the Capitol or Lillian wanting me to _be _like a Foxface. No, it was you all along, Katniss. I don't want her to call me that too. But for some reason, I don't want her to know my real name either.

"Call me Em," I say.

* * *

On our travels between the 'rendezvous point' and the 'third fire', I've found out a lot more about Katniss, and she's found out a lot more about me. It really is the most surreal thing to be doing in the Hunger Games. Katniss' favourite colour is forest-green. Mine is a grassy-green. Katniss turned sixteen on the eighth of May. I turn sixteen in three days time. She was surprised at that. She thought I looked like I'd barely turned fifteen at the most. I don't think I mind her so much any more. Stabby McStabbington can keep resting by my side for a while longer.

When we reach the 'third fire' site, Katniss goes all panicky. I know what she's thinking – Rue hasn't been here since whenever those two set it up. Katniss takes a few breathers and then calms down.

"Right," she says, as though I was the one having a fit, and not her, "Someone – or something – is just keeping her up a tree – between here and the second fire. So... we'll just have to hunt them down." She starts to run away from the fire, bow ready for any attacks. I run after her, and keep my knife blade poised for action too. We actually haven't been running that long when I hear an unnatural sound to the left.

"Katni-" I begin, but she's still running onwards, more on the right. I'll just have to take on whatever it is on my own, then. I hear more noises. They are the noises you would expect to hear from a prowling beast that is getting pumped up for a kill. My instinct tells me Careers. My ears tell me there's only one. My nose tells me it's a boy. My eyes tell me it's Marvel.

I slowly stalk him, and luckily he's going the same way, so he doesn't see me. Even though that gives me a slight advantage, I need to remember that he's properly trained to kill, and has a spear for a weapon, whereas I have merely a knife blade. He stops by a tree. I still have the element of surprise. Closer, closer, closer. I wish these silly songbirds would shut up so I can concentrate better. Nearly there, just one more step...

"Aaaahh!" No! That has to be Rue! Marvel is off like a shot – Rue's screams must have something to do with him – and I know I have to follow. I'm actually faster than him, but he might just be suffering from fatigue, not that I overtake him; I stay a safe distance away until the clearing. Rue is screaming out for Katniss, hopelessly tangled in a net. I can hear Katniss screaming her name back, but too far away, too far away. I freeze watching the scene. It's like I'm not even here.

Marvel laughs manically. Rue shows nothing but sheer terror in her eyes and desperate, screeching voice. Marvel steps back a few paces. Then he does the trigger. He lifts the spear up and gets ready to project it through the air, in exactly the same stance as when he...

Everything is a blur. Katniss entering the clearing. Rue reaching her arm out to Katniss and saying her name. Me screaming and charging forwards. Marvel confused. Marvel throwing the spear as I dive onto him. Blood pouring out of his neck. A minor feeling of satisfaction. A cannon. An overwhelming feeling of emptiness and despair. But I've missed something.

What did I miss?

Oh, yeah, I remember.

The arrow lodging into my thigh as I fall to the ground.

* * *

**Katniss roots through my bag X-D That actually wasn't intentional.**

**No codeword today. I'm putting it to rest. Resting in cyberspace beside Raven and Ivan and Cuthbert Number One. But who else will be resting there? Mwah-hah-hah-hah!**

**Oh! And check out DizzyPotter's 'The 36th Hunger Games', it's really good and is extremely unpredictable to say the least... Go Freya Egg!**

**Review please :-) It does make my day and I do a little dance whenever I get one.**


	19. Night, Night, Ally

**Hi. Here is another chapter. Sorry I took so long, I'd put an excuse, but I actually don't have one :-L So I hope I've kept Katniss and Rue reasonably in character, and that you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen – Night, Night, Ally

I killed Marvel. I killed Marvel! I did what I wanted to do. So why do I feel so sad? Shouldn't I feel happy for achieving my revenge? Thing is, I don't feel sad for Marvel. Perhaps that's a bit cold-blooded, but I don't. It's something else. Something I can't reach. Maybe if I can just focus on this feeling a little longer, I can know what it is.

But I can't focus on the feeling, because there's another one screaming out for attention. It is pain, and it is coming from my right thigh. I perch up on one elbow to look at it, and see what I expected. Not much to say, really. Just an arrow sticking out. Not much blood comes up, much less than I'd have expected. I've been lucky. It's basically just skimmed it compared to what it could have done. Must have missed all the arteries, veins and muscle – if that's possible. I roll my fingers through the blood, feel the tear in the fabric, but I don't try to remove the arrow. I don't really want to. Not yet, at least. I suddenly realise that Katniss is running around hysterically with her bow, shouting to something.

"Are there more? Rue! Are there more?"

"No," says Rue, even though she can't possibly know. But I know. I would have noticed it if somebody else was there. Katniss rushes over to Rue, kneels beside her, and cuts at the netted rope entrapping her like there's no tomorrow. She scans her eyes across Rue's body, but can't find whatever she's looking for.

"Where do you hurt, Rue? Where did he hit?"

"He didn't, Katniss! I'm fine, look!" Rue points just two metres to her left where the spear is lodged into the ground.

"But-" says Katniss, confused, "I don't get it. He's trained. How could he have missed?"

"Aren't you glad he missed, Katniss?" asks, Rue, worry showing in her eyes as she sits up.

"Of course I am, Pr-Rue," exclaims Katniss, and she hugs her, "But surely he couldn't have totally missed..." Noticing the rate of the bleeding in my thigh is getting worse, I think this is as good a time as any to let them know they aren't the only ones here.

"He could," I say, sitting up as I begin to feel faint, "But sadly _you_ couldn't..."

"What?" asks Katniss as she and Rue look over to me, "Oh! Em!" She runs over with a terrified face, "oh! I'm so sorry! It was Marvel, he-"

"I found him," I interrupt, "I, uh..." I can't exactly say about the whole revenge-thing, "...knew he would be trouble, so..." I struggle to get my thoughts together out loud, even though I already know what to say, "...Rue screamed, and I chased him, and..." I can't breathe, "...he was going to throw it through her stomach..." it's like I've run a thousand miles, "...I ran. Jumped. And he threw... Wonky. And the arrow... uh, and the knife-neck... Yeah. It hurts." I let out a half-sob, half-laugh as some blurry figures take a stick out of a red blob.

Hee-hee. Cherries taste nice.

* * *

I wake up sat between two trees. My back leans low against one, while my feet rest much higher on the other. Some whiteness peeks through a tear in my right trouser leg. I feel it. Bandage, I'm certain of it. I am reassured that it is when I see a flash of red as I move the tear. Hm. How did I end up bleeding? Oh yeah. Katniss shot me. On purpose? I don't think so. But then again, I know she's good enough at archery to land an eleven, and I even saw what she could do when the supplies were blown, so why would she choose to be a bad shot only now? I wander through the possibilities.

She doesn't trust me, so an 'accident' would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of me. I dismiss the thought. If that was so, she'd have aimed straighter, or have gone back whilst I was unconscious to finish the job. Nah, I know why it happened. She just looked there for a split second, and turned towards Rue as she fired. Missing the split second after looking, where I come running in. She's so professional.

I take my feet down from the tree and sit myself up straight. "Em?" asks a voice from above. I look up into the tree.

I smile, "Hello Rue."

"Thanks," she says.

"Thanks?" I ask, "Thanks for what?"

"Well, you've sort of saved me twice now." I think back. I warned her about the tracker-jacker tree, and now I've knocked Marvel's aim from her. Hm. Guess I have saved her.

"You're welcome," I reply.

"Do you think you can climb up?" asks Rue, "We would have lifted you if we could; only it didn't seem worth the risk."

"I reckon I could," I say, and jump to my feet. I unintentionally let out a groan and nearly fall over as I stand up. Propping myself up on Rue's tree, I answer the question I can see forming in her mind, "it's okay, I'm fine." I get myself into the right mindset to climb. I'll just ignore the pain, that's all. Wrapping my arms right around the trunk, I tightly straddle myself on it, then take turns moving my arms and legs up. My thigh throbs as I keep my muscles so clenched, so I'm relieved when I reach a branch. I sit on it for a rest, after all I am... wha-? Eight metres up? Oh dear. Hold onto your lunch. Did I have lunch? I can't remember.

Rue is a few branches above me. A little reluctantly, I stand on my branch – clinging to the trunk's bark – and manoeuvre around the other branches until I am up by Rue's. She gives me her hand as extra support to climb up. "Thanks," I say. Rue has scooted over a little so that I can be next to the trunk. That's nice of her. I look about. "Where's Katniss?"

"Oh," Rue says, "she's just gone to do some hunting."

"Isn't it a bit late for that?" I say, looking to the orangey-coloured sky.

"I don't know," Rue shrugs, "she said she was having 'a hollow day', or something. I think it means she can't feel full."

"Right," I say. So basically she's going to be pigging herself out. This reminds me of something. "Did you get the fish she caught for you?"

"What fish?" asks Rue, "I didn't know there was any fish?"

"Well," I start, "we were by the stream and Katniss shot three fish – I saw her do it. And she took one and I took one, and she said that we'd save the third one for you when we found you. I thought she would have given you it by now."

"Are you sure there were three fish? Because me and Katniss already ate while you were sleeping."

"I'm certain."

"Well, it wasn't there then. We only ate the roots, nuts, berries, greens and left-over groosling from..." realisation dawns on Rue's face, "...only from my pack." We turn to each other with disgusted faces from our new discovery.

"I wonder if Katniss is planning any more hollow days some time soon..." I say.

"How could she do that?" Rue exclaims.

"Maybe she didn't mean to," I say, "but whether she meant it or not, I don't really want to be allied with someone that doesn't admit about stuff like that."

"Me too," says Rue.

"Right. Should we leave her then?"

"Yeah. Maybe when she's asleep?"

"Sounds good. _We_ can still be allies though, can't we? I mean, we'd make a good team..."

"Okay," Rue says. The sky is much darker now. They'll be playing the anthem soon. But Katniss still isn't back. "Oh, I forgot!" Rue lets out, "I've got your pack!" She hands it over to me.

"Thanks," I say, opening it up, "here; have an apple." Rue says thank you and takes a bite, sucking at the juices. I check through my backpack's contents. The first aid kit, the oppoberries, the metal pot, the food from the pyramid – it's all there. My knife blade, clean and shiny, also rests there, so Rue and Katniss must have washed it and put it in. But there's also a total surprise of an item. It's a water bottle, and relatively full.

"We found that in Marvel's pack," Rue tells me, "we knew you didn't have a bottle, so we put it in your bag. The water's treated." I nod and take a sip as Rue continues to eat her apple. Agh, it's nice. I let it swirl about my mouth to rehydrate every part, trying not to think about how just a few hours earlier, _he _might have been drinking from here. I stop at sip six. My thirst is not totally quenched, but I don't want to run out of water.

Through the canopy, I look up to the dark blue sky. It is speckled with bright, shining dots. Stars. I've never seen them properly before. They appear to be just like the little balls of electricity we learnt to produce and collect at school. I hope this is the real sky, and not just some Capitol creation. I can't see the moon, but there is one single dark cloud it could be hiding behind. It will probably rain soon, then.

Suddenly, I spot something above me in the tree, glistening. It lets off an artificial yellow light. I think I know what it is, and if so, it could be just what me and Rue need. I press a hand against a tree trunk and lift a foot so it rests on our branch. Then, bracing for the extra pain in my thigh, I stand up and grab the next-highest branch with both arms. I pull and lean and propel myself so I'm on it.

"What are you doing?" I hear Rue call worriedly.

"You'll see!" I say. I repeat the routine to get the next branch twice more, and stand up again on the final one. I try to not think about my leg or the height as I reach for the yellow berries. I study them closer as they rest in my hand. Yup, no doubt about it; they're dormirberries. I place a handful of them in my pocket and make my way back down to Rue.

"What did you get?" she asks.

"Berries," I say, showing her a few.

"Um, I don't recognise those," Rue starts as I put them away, "I'm not sure we should eat them."

"Don't worry, _we _aren't going to. Katniss is."

Rue looks at me in horror, "you mean they're poisonous?" I'm about to reply, when the anthem begins. Marvel's face appears in the sky. My kill. That worries me. That right now, on the statistics board, it will be saying:

"_Medea Travex, District 5, Score: 2, Kills: 2"_

That might mean I've killed more than Katniss. Definitely more than Rue. Could have even killed more people than Thresh and Peeta. I might only have less kills than the two Careers at this point. Strange. I thought I wouldn't kill anybody. How wrong I was. At least it will mean my odds have improved – I might actually have sponsors. In fact, now I'm in the final eight – wait, no, seven – I'm bound to have a few. But not that many, seeing as I got a two in training. Still, Johanna Mason didn't need sponsors when she got a low score, just an axe at the end. Only even if there is one, I can't use an axe... To be perfectly honest, I'm not certain why I got a two. I mean, I can't have been that bad...

* * *

"_Uh, Medea Travex?" I announce to the Gamemakers. A few nod their heads, but they all have this vacant stare about them, and hold on to their punch glasses as though they might explode if they didn't. I see a lilac door slowly closing behind where they are seated, so someone has either just entered or exited. Oh dear. I hope this odd behaviour isn't due to whatever happened in Ivan's private session. I do hope he did well. He feels kind of like... a little brother, I guess. The little brother I never had. I could never let him die. But who says I have to? Me, Ivan, Raven and , grr, Rose could make it to the last eight if we wanted to. Even if we all only get a 5 or something, it could be enough in an alliance. We could stick together until nearly the en-_

* * *

Wow, wow, wow. Stop the flashback right there. I don't want to think about all my childish thoughts from before the arena. It gets... confusing. The arena has become my past, present and future, like a whole separate world. Plus remembering... hurts. Deep down, I know the arena's changed me. And to think, it's only been eleven days since I was in that private session.

Something nudges me on the shoulder. It's Rue. "Em, are you listening?" she urges, "It's Claudius Templesmith – and he's announcing something!" I suddenly realise that the anthem has been replaced by announcing trumpets.

"Hello," booms Claudius Templesmith, "This is Claudius Templesmith, and I'm announcing something!" Rue gives me an 'I-told-you-so' look, before he carries on. "First of all, I'd like to congratulate you, the seven remaining contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, for making it this far," I can imagine Cato and Clove's fist pumping right now, "and tell you that there has been a rule change." A rule change? How can there be a rule change? Surely there aren't enough rules for one to be changed? "Under this new rule, both tributes from the same district shall be declared winners if they are the last two alive." Why are they doing this now? It would have been of a lot more help to me eight days ago. But I know why they're doing it. It's for 'the star-crossed lovers of District 12', that's what they were calling them in the Capitol. I'm the only one that won't benefit from the change of rules. Good, I think to myself, they'd only change it back at the end, anyway.

Rue and I both look to each other simultaneously. Does this mean our alliance is over? No, it doesn't have to be, not yet. Claudius Templesmith repeats the rule changes, in case anybody didn't get it the first time. A couple of hundred metres away at the most, there is a giant cry of "Peeta!" What? I'm sorry, but who goes around acting like she's queen of all stealth, and then shouts out someone's name at a million decibels? Katniss does, evidently. Only a minute later, she is running into the clearing in front of us, carrying two squirrels by her side.

"Rue? Em?" she yells.

"We're up here, Katniss," calls Rue. We might be splitting up with her, but she would find us soon enough anyway, and then there would be some explaining to do. And it would mostly be lies.

Katniss climbs the tree until she is on the branch below us, then speaks. "Listen," she says, "I know what we're going to do. First we'll sleep, then tomorrow morning we'll find Peeta and team up with him. Then we'll find Thresh, and you can stay with him, Rue..."

"And me?" I jump in, more than a little peed off, "What part do I have in this 'great plan' of yours?"

"Well, you can stay with me and Peeta or Rue and Thresh," Katniss says, oblivious to my annoyance at her.

"Really?" I say, "I was planning on joining Cato and Clove. I mean, we're so alike!" I am met by two confused looks. "Sarcasm, people! Sheesh." I guess Districts Eleven and Twelve don't value humour.

Wow, cool down! You're not really angry at them for that, are you? It's just because you don't know why you keep feeling sad. Oh, and you're also angry about Katniss nearly killing you and eating half the supplies. In that case, maybe you're allowed to be angry.

Yes! Finally! She's dropped off! Not as in she's dropped off the branch or anything, but she's fallen asleep. It's taken forever, because she _insisted_ upon being on watch, and fatigue has only taken her after six hours. At least, it seems to have been six hours. I volunteered to be on guard duty, but Katniss wasn't having any of it. She just doesn't trust me, and I can't say I blame her; even _I_ don't trust myself half the time.

I nudge Rue, who lies next to me in the sleeping bag. I press a finger to my lips, before whispering, "Time to get up." She nods, and we wriggle carefully out of the bag one at a time, leaving Katniss' belt still hanging around the branch. I signal for Rue to remain where she is as I slip down to the branch below us. This is the only way I can feed Katniss the berries without waking her up. If I stayed on the same branch as her, the vibrations could surely jolt her up from sleep.

I edge along the branch until I am at the trunk with Katniss sat slumped in front of me. I take a handful of berries from my trouser pocket, and I can hear my every heart beat thumping in my ear. I stare at her hands, still resting neatly on the bow's body and string. That's how this could go terribly wrong. But that's also why it has to be this way. I slowly reach over, lining up my hands so that they are ready to do their jobs. They shake enormously, but I force myself to continue. Three... two... one! The left clasps the nose and the right deposits the berries before clamping itself over the mouth. I'm worried this shall wake her, but luckily Katniss' body swallows the dormirberries as a reflex. I let out a sigh of relief, then tell Rue to grab her pack and climb down to the ground, to which she willingly obliges.

"Come on," I encourage, "after twenty minutes, there's no telling when she'll wake up!" Apparently, dormirberries are very common in District 3, and used to make a sleeping syrup. They discovered this quality while making jam, and they were renamed 'dormirberries', after the old word for 'to sleep'. And that's why you should always read the back label of medicine bottles.

I'm about to join Rue in climbing down the tree, but I feel I need to set something right. "Sorry," I say to Katniss, "but we had to." I grab my pack from the side, and add, "Night, night, Katniss." Then I climb down the tree, meet Rue at the bottom, and we run away as fast as we can with my bad leg.

I've been merciful. I can be proud of that. Medea Travex has two kills, and that count isn't going any higher.

* * *

**So, I hope you liked the chapter, and for once I didn't really do a cliffhanger! :-O Don't forget to review!**

**Plus, why not check out pinkgirraffe10's story, Treachery: Signed By Death? It's good, and I'm not just saying that because I'm beta-ing it :-P I'd like to think I'm not arrogant or vain or whatever like that. I was reading it and liking it even before I starting beta-ing it, so...**

**Hee-hee now I am in the advertising biz! See you next update!**


	20. Water in the Fields

**Hi, and welcome back to The Girl With The Fiery Hair! Make the most of this because I'll take longer than usual to update, as I'm on holiday for a week starting Saturday. Yay! Go Cromer!**

**So... I hope you enjoy this chapter. It may have gone dodgy at a few points, but oh well.**

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Chapter Twenty – Water in the Fields

"Rue, I really don't think I'm that good at singing," I say. The mockingjays sing Rue's song repeatedly so that the sound bounces all around the forest.

"Of course you are!" she replies as we continue walking, "or if you're that worried about it, you could try whistling instead."

I shake my head, "I can't whistle either."

"Em, this really is the best way for us to tell each other we're safe if we get separated."

I sigh, "Fine, I'll try." The truth is, I have never sung in my life. They don't teach music in school in District Five. Because music means singing, and if you can sing, you might start singing in work, and if you sing in work, it means you are off-task, and if you are off-task, _bad things can happen. _Bad things like being electrocuted by nine thousands volts. Or having your task explode. And then you lose your job. Admittedly, you never find out about that last one, because by that time, you're already dead.

Rue sings me her pretty little tune to remind me. I try to copy her tones and echo back the notes, but all that comes out is an awful croaking noise that vaguely sounds like a dying animal. The mockingjays around us stop singing Rue's tune, as if in disgust of such a poor attempt at music.

"See?" I say, "I told you I'd be terrible."

"You aren't terrible!" Rue exclaims, "You just aren't using your own voice."

"My own voice?" I question, "Who else's voice could I use?"

Rue sighs. "That's not what I meant. What I meant was, you're trying to copy _my _voice, when you need to sing it in your own voice, the way it naturally comes out."

"Huh?"

"Just try again, Em. Please."

I try to change the subject. "You know, my name isn't actually Em."

"Well, I know that!" laughs Rue, "I _can _remember things. Your name's Medea. I just guessed that as Em was what Katniss was calling you, that it was just a nickname."

"Nickname?" I ask warily. Nickname means Foxface. Orange rod. Various other insults. "I don't like nicknames."

"Oh," says Rue, "but they're just a quicker way to say your name. Or something your friends like to call you." Right. So _that's _the definition of a nickname. Raven called me a nickname then, didn't he? He called me 'little Foxy'. It makes me feel guilty to think about it. "So I'm going to call you Em," Rue finishes. Right... that means that Rue is my friend. I'm not sure I want another friend. My friends seem to have a habit of dying. In that case, I won't get friendly with Rue. No, siree. It will only make more danger for the both of us, I mean, that's all that's happened before.

I smile to Rue. "I think Rue suits you better than any nickname, I say, before deleting all memories of calling her 'Pixie' in my head from my mind.

* * *

We stand at the edge of the forest. "Right," I say, "somehow, _we _have to get over _there_," I point to the drop-off opposite, "without _them_," to the Careers, "going after us. Any ideas?"

Rue shrugs. "Not really."

"Good job I've got one then." I tell her the plan, and she frowns.

"Isn't that a bit risky?"

"Not a bit. Very. But it's all we've got, if we want to get you to him quickly. We could wait 'till nightfall, but knowing the Gamemakers... they'll have done something to liven it up by then."

Rue waits a while, considering, before saying, "All right. Let's do it."

And so we begin to put my plan into action.

* * *

I wait until it is as silent as possible, so that Cato and Clove will definitely hear. I wish we had something better than just stones, and some better method of 'setting it up', so to speak, but we'll make do. I've already told Rue to go run off so she's closer to the Cornucopia, since she's the one that really _needs _to get to Thresh. I'm just the... well, I don't know what you'd call me really. Third wheel? I don't know. Let's just say I'm sticking around for a bit for not much reason. Well, I guess I haven't really got anything better to do.

I haul on the rope that we scavenged from Marvel's trap. It is now a pulley over a tree branch to lift all the rocks up. There are quite a lot of them. I'm at a forty-five degree angle before the rocks are high enough. Preparing myself to run, I check which way I should go and how; I think maybe in zigzags, and I'll run around the perimeter of the woods.

Okay, let's count to three and then drop. One... two... three. The rocks smash hard against the ground and I'm running away just as soon as they do.

"Yes! Come on, Cato! There's somebody out there!" I hear Clove yell, and it is followed by the sound of two pairs of thundering feet. Well, at least they've taken the bait. The trouble is, will I get away in time? I'm running and running and running around the edges of the wood, bobbing between trees, but not at my full pace. I can't go at full pace, I'll over-exert my injury or something. But... if I get caught by the Careers I won't even have to worry about injuries. I look behind me – the Careers have just entered the forest, but they're heading for where the noise came from, not me. This calms me down a little, but I can't stop running. I turn my head back to face where I'm going and –oh! Barely miss face-planting into a tree. Right. That should be my cue to get out of the forest. So I do.

I head towards the Cornucopia, where I find Rue perched beside it, seeing if I'm coming. I wave my hands at her. "Go! Go!" I mouth. We both make a beeline for the drop-off, and luckily Clove and Cato are nowhere to be seen. Good. Now I can stop for a breather.

I allow myself to just flop onto the ground. Wow, I have seriously lost some stamina. I was nothing like this at the start. Then again, I think I've lost weight, which could explain why. Lost weight? I'm practically a twig. I wonder how long 'till somebody comes along to snap me. Not that I wasn't a twig in District Five, only now I just have to do so much more, and perhaps I wasn't as weak before. Oh, did that make sense? Nothing's making sense any more. I thought that your thoughts were meant to be the one thing that always makes sense? I don't know, I don't know. I have a nose. What? I hate my brain. It doesn't even tell me when I need to eat or drink any more.

"Yes!" I hear Rue exclaim. I look up.

"Huh?" I say, beginning to stand myself up.

"Well, it's just, you have to be right!" Rue says, "If Thresh is anywhere, it has to be here!" I peer around at the landscape. There are multi-coloured fields running about everywhere as far as the eye can see. Green, yellow, brown, pink, orange, purple, blue. Ha. I knew blue corn was real. The beauty of the scenery staggers me as the layout makes it appear to be some prettily-sewn quilt with different squares of fabric all over, and runs on for miles.

"Wow," I say, then shake my head as if to clean out the great mess that is my mind. "Uh, we should move," I say, edging towards the over-five-foot-tall yellow grass that marks the perimeter of the 'quilt'. I'm not sure exactly what height I am, but it's a little over five-foot if I'm stood up properly with my heels on the ground. I like to walk on the balls of my feet, because then you can adjust your height. I adjust now to be the tallest I can and crane my neck to see over the tall plants. Rue does the same as she follows behind me.

"I think I should go in front," she says, creeping past, "it's just that I think I know where he might be." I don't argue about it, because she's probably right. And she'll likely know in exactly which parts of the field snakes and such will be, so we can avoid them. Yes, I'm quite happy following her lead. After a while we stop and sit on a large rock that's buried deeply into the ground. "We need to eat," Rue says.

We open our packs and divide up most of what we have left. I also finish off my water, not realising until I'm searching for that final drop that doesn't quite want to come out. I'll get more when I go back to the forest or something.

Then we carry on through the rainbow-coloured crops – maize and barley and corn and oat – until Rue suddenly stops within a turquoise field of some sort of grain, meaning I bump straight into her. "Thresh!" she yells, "Thresh, it's me, Rue!" There is some movement that isn't due to the faint breeze around thirty metres away. That has to be Thresh, hiding. How did Rue know he'd be in this particular crop? I can only guess that they had some sort of discussion including turquoise while in the Capitol.

Thresh's head, and then torso, bobs up over the grain field. Now that's giant. He slowly starts to come over with a strange concerned, or maybe concentrated, look on his face. But then all of a sudden he's charging right up towards us, Rue diving out of the way, and I try to run but it's no use because he's so huge and going for me, and then the next thing I know is the world is upside down as I dangle from my bad leg. Thresh is hanging on tight to my ankle with just one hand, like I don't weigh any more than a rag doll. Maybe I don't. I think I'm meant to feel scared, especially seeing him raising a blunt rock over my head, but I just feel vaguely annoyed. I've come all this way to bring him his ally, and now he's going to thank me through my murder. Nice, Thresh, real nice. I feel a piercing pain in my thigh as the weight of my body makes the wound reopen. Just what I didn't want to happen. I scream at the pain, which must mean it now looks like I'm terrified of Thresh. How exciting for all those Capitolites watching. How terrible for my dad and Myra. Well, at least I can say hi to Mum for them.

"Thresh, no! Don't hurt Em!" shrieks Rue. Thresh's stone-arm stops in mid-air as he turns to Rue. "I wouldn't be alive without her," I hear Rue say coolly, "she's saved my life at least twice. So can you put her down, maybe?"

"Alright," says Thresh, and softly places me down on the ground after rotating me back round the right way. "Sorry," he adds, but in both his eyes and his voice I can tell that he didn't exactly want to. He doesn't trust me. He probably thinks I'm a backstabber. Or a crazy madwoman. Definitely not to be trusted, at any rate. Perhaps I shouldn't be trusted, though. Maybe I can't be trusted, and Rue is just oblivious to this because of the two times I've saved her. Well, all that matters is that I can't stay here where Thresh doesn't trust me. I wasn't planning on staying anyway.

All of a sudden, something small and silver appears in the sky. A parachute. That means a gift from a sponsor. And it's going to... No-one else has seen it. I could take it, I could- no, I won't. That's what a sly fox would do, and I am not it.

"Rue, look! You got a sponsor gift!" I exclaim. The boy and girl from District Eleven look up. Rue reaches for the parachute as it gets nearer, and then opens it. A happy gasp escapes her lips as she looks at it.

"Look, Thresh!" she exclaims, "It's from home! It's bread from District Eleven!" As they both turn to look at it, I take the opportunity to run away, dipping and diving through the crops. It's for the best.

Soon I get to a rock and have to sit down on it. My thigh hurts so badly and there is now a thin stream of blood trickling out of the wound. I fold and roll my trouser leg all the way up to examine it. Well, it has definitely reopened, that's all I know. I'm seriously lacking in the first aid skills department, so I'm not sure what to do. Eventually I settle for just wrapping another bandage over the first and hoping for the best. It would probably be better to put something to stop infection on it as well, but I've no idea what would do that so I leave it. There are fever pills, painkillers for coughs and colds, three plasters and just one bandage left. Katniss said I had a temperature the other day, so I pop out two fever tablets, hold my nose, and swallow them. Then I carry on walking through the field.

Something exciting must be happening somewhere else, because I'd have thought the Gamemakers would have done something to make us fight by now, as we're all pretty close together. Like maybe a- oh. There's water entering my boots and tickling my toes. Please tell me I haven't walked into some sort of pond! I look down, and I can see the water is all over the ground by me, and rising quickly. I start running away as it reaches my ankles, and it's almost up to my hips when I realise that there's nowhere to run; it's everywhere.

As far as I can see, the water is rising through the fields, and it looks like it could even go as far back as the Cornucopia and the lake. The lake... but that's the Careers camp! I'm up to my armpits as waves begin to ripple from where I know the lake is. They're bringing all of us together. The treacherous liquid totally submerges me and I flap my arms to try and get up to breathe. I can't swim. There's no water in District Five. Well, there is, but not to swim in. I flail about in the water trying to figure out the physics as wave after wave breaks right on me. I finally work out that to tread water I have to move my arms and legs about in little circles underwater. I stretch my neck to see if anybody else is nearby and I can see that the waves have moved me to within one hundred metres of where I left Thresh and Rue, although I can't see them. I turn the other way and can make out a little blob of a Career not that far away. Oh no, oh no, oh no! I rotate round and round on the spot. Where should I go? Where _can _I go? And the water just continues to pile up with waves that come from nowhere.

Suddenly, I feel something on my neck, grabbing my collar. I squeal as I am faced with Clove. "Shhh, little Foxy," she taunts, using Raven's nickname for me in the cruellest way, "I think your fur's a little wet. Mind if I clean it for you?" I don't even have time to take a breath before she's plunging my head under the water and then yanking it back up repetitively. She withdraws a knife from her jacket and says, "Time for a little scrub as well, of course!" Then she pulls strands of my soaking hair out from my practical ponytail and 'scrubs' at them, letting the blade enter my scalp just a little bit every time.

"Stop it!" I scream, mouth filling with red fluid as she dunks me further underwater. "Let me go!" I shout, thrashing to be freed as I re-emerge from the deep.

"Okay, Foxy!" says Clove, "Have it your way!" She drags the knife across my cheek, barely missing my eye, and then throws me under the water, letting go of my shirt but then stamping on me as I sink deeper, deeper, deeper. At least I got some air this time. I open my eyes and the crops all sway around me in the current. Clove treads water just above me. I need to go up for air, but it can't be here. I kick my feet through my ankles to save my thigh work, and make windmills with my arms to go forwards, away from the terror that is Clove. My mouth is bursting and my lungs long for air, but I keep going for maybe twenty metres before returning to the surface. I gasp for air, and once I've got it, I dive straight back under, so I could be dead if it weren't for the lack of a cannon and the trail of blood flowing from my head and face. Still, it's enough for me to be ignored, and I can't even see anybody any more. I tread water and spin around to check, but I'm right; there's nobody there. I let out a sigh of relief, before a cannon booms.

I panic. Whose was it? Not mine. I don't know anything else. But how were they killed? Drowned? Murdered? I don't know and I can't worry about it as I carry on swimming away, on the surface this time. I don't even realise that the water is getting shallower until I feel some grass brushing my leg. Yes, the water level's dropping. Maybe the Gamemakers only wanted one death to keep the audience going. Well, the star-crossed lovers have probably met up by now, and they'll be adding some entertainment into the mix. Unless if it's one of them that's died... no, I wouldn't have thought it.

The water continues to get less and less deep. I'm just wading through it now, and the plants seem unaffected, since they stand just as tall and firm as before we were swamped. I don't ever want to see water again. Actually, yes I do, or else I'll die. Taking my backpack off of one shoulder, I reach for my bottle before dipping it under the icy water. Bubbles rise to the surface steadily, and I only remove the bottle once they no longer come. Sure, the water will be filthy and possibly even deadly dangerous – but it's all I've got. Eventually the rather murky liquid goes down from my hips to my knees to my ankles, until it is no longer there at all.

The wind blows harshly over my freezing body while I walk on. With the sky getting darker I try to speed up my walking but it's a pretty failed effort. My knees knock together and my teeth chatter and I have no chance of getting any warmer with these soaked-through clothes on. Not that I'm about to take them off or anything, I'm pretty sure it would get even worse; plus I'm not too keen on the whole of Panem seeing me strip. After a long time, I can see that the arena has curved round enough for the woods and fields to touch at one point. I head towards this point, because so far, the forest has served me well. The forest is better because I know it better, and if it floods again I can always climb a tree. In the fields you can't see what's coming or going around you. Well, I guess you could, but I'm too small for that. I mean, I'm practically sixteen and only one inch off a twelve-year-old.

When I get there, I only go about sixty metres into the forest before plunging to my bottom. I tuck my knees up so that they are against my chin and then wrap my arms tight around my legs in a bundle, shivering all the while. I want a sleeping bag to keep me warm. I want another person to cosy up next to. I want things to go back to how they were. All these things I want, but I can't get a single one of them.

I cry from cold. I cry from tiredness. I cry from the cuts on my head and cheek and thigh. It would be easier to list what I don't cry from. I don't care if this loses me sponsors. I don't think I have any anyway. I mean, they haven't helped me so far. Why would they now?

When I am all cried out, I stare up at the sky and wait to see the next face that death has claimed. For some reason, I hope it will show me.

* * *

**Hm... who could have died? Tell me your ideas on the poll on my profile! :-D I shall reveal the results of it next chapter! I wonder if you'll get it right!**

**But don't forget to review as well! We just made it to 202! Thanks guys! I love you all! And the statistics are:**

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	21. I Didn't Mean To

**Hey guys! I'm baaaaaaaacccckkkkk! Did you miss me? Right, first off, the results of the poll. In first place... *drumroll* with two votes each you thought that Peeta or my laptop died! I thought I told you guys not to click that one?! And, in joint third with one vote each it is... *drumroll again* ...Thresh, Rue and Medea herself! What is with you people and guessing the obviously wrong ones? I mean, Medea, really? If she died then this story would be done. Unless if she became a ghost... 0.0**

**Anyway, sorry, but you were all wrong. It wasn't Peeta or my laptop (though it kept dying on chapter twelve) or Thresh or Rue or Medea. It was- well, you'll find out, won't you?**

**Now, I shall leave you with the interesting chapter title, "I Didn't Mean To"...**

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Chapter Twenty-One – I Didn't Mean To

As I hear the anthem play, I dread looking up to the sky, but I do so anyway. _Please don't be Rue. Or Katniss. Or Peeta. Or Thresh. Or- _I just don't want anybody else to have died. Could it be possible that somebody actually didn't die? Is it possible for the Gamemakers to ever get it wrong? I've never seen it, but it could happen, I think, one day.

I see the face, and it's...

It's...

It's Clove.

Clove?

Somehow I wasn't expecting that. That seems an even less likely result than President Snow suddenly rushing into the arena with a plastic chicken tied to his head. I'm waiting, President...

So now there is only one Career left. Cato. Though Katniss is half a Career really, with her bow and all. And then Thresh could be the other half, he's that big. Actually, Peeta was also a Career for a while, so then he could be half again. So correction: there are two and a half Careers left.

A cold wind blows against my neck and every other body part I own for that matter. I crawl over to a tree and try to use it as a windshield so I'm slightly warmer, but the wind just changes directions to get at me. If I move around the tree trunk, the wind follows. Many awkward moves later, I give up and just crumple up in a ball, trying to sleep despite the low temperature. I could so do with a fire right now, but of course, with two and a half Careers around, I could never light one.

* * *

When I wake, there is sunburn on my neck. _How-?_ Weather confuses me.

The sun shines in my eyes, so I cover them with my hand. What do I need to do? Hm... _you need to eat. _So I eat what is left in my pack. An apple, three crackers and half a handful of oppoberries. _Now you have to drink. _So I take a drink, carefully counting my sips this time so I won't run out. I want to find that pond again – the one I found before I ran to the tracker-jacker tree. _You need to set off, then. _So I set off.

I hike through the woods, ignoring the itching coming from the dried blood on my face and scalp. _It would only make it worse, _I tell myself.

I can't really see me reaching the pond any time soon. So I'd better do something to keep me occupied. Think... think... oh, I know! I always used to do this with Myra.

_I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... 'T'!_

_Er... is it a tree?_

_Yes! Your go!_

_Okay! I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... 'T'!_

_Urm. This is a hard one! Is it a tree?!_

_You got it! Your turn again!_

_Right, let's see. I spy with my little eye, something beginning with..._

_It's a tree._

_How did you know?_

_I'm psychic._

_No you're not._

_Of course I'm not. We live in the same head. That's how I know._

_Well, it also helps that all we can see are trees._

Note to self: Playing I-spy alone causes madness.

I carry on for hours, cutting out any attempts at entertaining myself now, as they seem more trouble than they're worth. The water in my bottle gradually dwindles down in amount until there is none left. After much walking I reach the pond. It was hard to find, but I made it. I wonder what's going on with everyone else about now. Rue and Thresh will be in the fields together. Peeta and Katniss will be together somewhere; probably nearby that stream I left Peeta at. I have absolutely no idea what Cato will be up to. Is he sad, I wonder, that his district partner has died? Or might he even have been the one responsible for her death? I don't know, so I had better just focus on myself.

The pond water looks much greener than last time I was here. Oh well, green is organic, right? I dunk my bottle under the water and wait until it is full before bringing it back up to the surface and sealing the cap on. Okay, so that's that dealt with. What now? I shall... make a camp. Yes, that's what I'll do. I don't want to have to do that in the very heat of the day. Walking around, I very quickly find a bush of a suitable size, but unfortunately it's poisoned ivy. Luckily, I find another oppoberry bush before long, so now I have both shelter and food. Then I don't know what to do, so I simply try to sleep while it's warm and easy to do so.

* * *

When I wake up, it's to the sound of the anthem. I didn't know I slept that long! Nobody's face appears in the sky. _They'll get us for it tomorrow, _I think. This thought is immediately answered by another announcement by Claudius Templesmith.

"Hello to the remaining tributes of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. Tomorrow morning, I invite you to a feast at the Cornucopia," Claudius' voice booms. I think I might just stay here. No point in getting myself killed for food when I can forage for it here in the woods. Or maybe even scavenge off of someone if the opportunity arises. "Now hold on," Claudius Templesmith continues, "Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately." Sleeping bag. I know that's what he means for me straight away. I was freezing last night. I need a sleeping bag.

"Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn," says Claudius, "Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance." My last chance? If he's referring to me, that means they will be altering the temperature to be even cooler at night. I won't survive that. Think hard? No need to think hard. I _have _to go if I'm to get home. Even if I have sponsors, there won't be enough money for a sleeping bag on day eleven. Day Eleven. Followed by Day Twelve. What a lovely birthday present that will be. The most valuable one I'll ever have, probably. Almost as if I'd been planning on this happening, I know what I'll do for the Feast.

I make my way past the pond, past the tracker-jacker tree, right to the edge of the woods. The Cornucopia is in view, and it should be dark enough for me to go unnoticed by Cato, if I time it right. But he still had at least one pair of night-vision goggles when I last saw him. After maybe twenty minutes, it feels safe. I'm leaving the pack here hidden in the brush; it should make running easier. A last glance left and right, clutching my knife blade just in case, and I'm off. I dash to the Cornucopia as fast as I can, cold air beating against my face as I do. I run inside and then right to the tip, where I hide, staying alert, for what must be nearly two hours solid. The metal is freezing and I wince every time I accidentally touch it. I wonder where my jacket is; I haven't had it for ages. Mind you, it barely covered my armpits after the fire.

I can just about make out the moon through the corner of the bend when I feel the vibrations. They are tiny, but I still feel them. My heart rate increases and my breathing intensifies. Who is it? Did they see me come in? It must be Cato; he's the only one who would have seen me, who would enter without a thought on his conscience. But why has it taken him so long? I ready myself, squatting instead of kneeling, my blade raised in a combative position. _Don't come any closer, _I think, _don't come any closer or I'll have to do it. I don't want to do it. I don't want to fight. I don't want to die. I don't want to kill either._

When I can feel the person close to me, merely a few paces, my self-preservation instincts kick in, outweighing anything else. I close my eyes, run and dive on to the person, stabbing them in the process. A high-pitched scream leaves them; a girl's scream. I slowly open my eyes, knowing what I shall find under my chest. I have just attacked a twelve-year-old.

"Rue!" I say, jumping backwards off her chest, "I- I- I- I'm sorry. I- I- I didn't mean to! If I knew it was you I never would have, never would have..." I trail off as I see the knife blade still firmly sticking out of her abdomen, the blood flowing smoothly out like the leaking fountain we have in District Five's main town square – all hell breaks lose to avoid standing in its waste at the reapings. I pluck the blade out and throw it out of harm's way. What do I do now? How do I help her? What do I do? Um, um, um, um, bandage! Yes, I'll need to bandage her up with my first aid kit. I have just one bandage left, but it could be enough. I reach to get the kit out of my pack when I remember. I left it in the forest. Then I'll just have to... have to... what? "Rue, what should I do? How can I help?"

I can see she is trying to suppress the pain from showing on her face, but it doesn't work. "Just, uh, keep pressure on it." Right, pressure. I can do that! I move around to her side and press in my hands to her wound. It feels so wrong, like I will be doing more harm than good, but it really does slow down the blood a lot. If I can just stay here long enough for the blood to clot, maybe she'll be alright. Tears start to stream down my cheeks, but I can't wipe them away. How could I hurt Rue? The little pixie who could fly around the apparatus and the trees.

"You're saving me again," says Rue, the faintest of smiles on her face.

I give a confused look, "Rue, I nearly killed you!" Then I add, "In fact, I might still have killed you! But I didn't want to kill you, you know that don't you?"

"I know, Em," she sighs.

"Does, uh, Thresh know you're here?" I ask.

"Yes," she says, face repulsing from the pain of the wound, "it's part of our plan. We didn't think anybody else would think of hiding in the Cornucopia. I was just going to run straight out, grab the pack and go back to the fields," she almost gives a little confused laugh, "it didn't work, did it?"

I panic. I don't know exactly what I can say to that. I think. "That wasn't a good plan," I say, "Thresh has all that muscle and he left it all to you?"

"Well, I say it was _our_ plan," grimaces Rue, "I didn't really give him much choice when he said we shouldn't do it. Still, I think he'd run in to help me if something went wrong."

A thought enters my head, "Rue, what is the thing you need most desperately?"

"I don't know. Thresh said he knew, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. Why'd you ask?"

"Because, it's just, well, maybe there's a different thing you need most now. Something to help this wound."

Rue replies to me calmly after a moment, "Then I'll just hope they change their minds on what they're giving us."

For a long time, we don't say anything. I feel so awful for doing this to Rue. How in Panem could I think she was Cato? At least I only got her once, and not that deep. The injury is still life-threatening and she'll need treatment for sure, but at least there's a few hours left for her before... before... "I am so sorry, Rue!" I cry, "I feel so terrible. Is there anything else I can do for you? Please say there is! You want it done and I'll do it."

"No, I don't need anything," Rue says, then she thinks more, "actually, there is _one _thing..."

* * *

**D-: Rue! Review please and it might help me type up the other two chapters I wrote on a notepad on holiday faster...**

**Yes, I am bribing you.**

**Yes, I shouldn't be doing it.**

**Yes, I do have sunburn in the shape of my swimsuit.**

**Yes, you don't know what questions you are asking to get these replies.**

**Yes, I will shut up now.**

**Review!**


	22. Happy Birthday

**Please note I wrote most of this chapter on a sugar rush. I also apologise if Rue's request is a bit cliché, but I figured she'd still ask for the same thing.**

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Chapter Twenty-Two – Happy Birthday

"What? What?" I frantically ask Rue. I _have _to do whatever it is she wants; I have to make this... 'inconvenience' up to her the best I can.

"Well," starts Rue, "I never did hear you sing in your own voice." Then she smiles as sweetly as a person who has been knifed in the stomach can.

"Oh, Rue," I say, "that's the one thing I can't do."

"Please," begs Rue with pleading eyes, "I love music more than anything."

I sigh, giving in, "Fine. But I don't know any songs, so it might not make much sense, let alone sound good." Right. So now I have to sing to Rue. But what about? I spot the moon in the ever-lightening sky and decide to base off that. How hard can it be, really? It's just rhymes. And a tune. I start to sing.

"_Someday soon, you'll see the moon  
And all his pretty creatures," _What now? Um...  
_"His perfect smile will last a while,  
The... bestest? Of his features." _Okay, not too bad so far, let's keep going to the end.

"_It's peaceful there, the midnight air,  
A moonchild feels so happy  
To sing a song all the night long,  
Sat on that... boot'ful chappy._

_And then quite soon, you and the moon  
Shall spy the gaining morning.  
And so you'll sleep, without a peep,  
Because the day is dawning." _Okay, three verses. We'll leave it there.

I look to Rue and it seems she is suppressing a giggle. "Happy now?" I ask.

"Contempt," she squeaks with a tiny smile. For a long while, there is silence. The blood has stopped coming out of Rue's cut but I don't remove the pressure because I'm scared it will start flowing thickly out again. Because then Rue would be more likely to die. And I can't let her die – I can't. You know, for a possibly-dying person she doesn't complain much. She's brave. I don't think I could ever be that brave.

"Em," says Rue.

"Yes?" I reply.

"You need to get ready to grab your pack." I look out of the Cornucopia. She's right – a lot more time has passed than I think and judging by the sky's colour it won't be long before dawn. But I can't leave Rue.

"No," I say, "you're more important than some silly backpack."

Rue shakes her head, "You've done all you can, Em. You deserve to get what you need. Thresh will look here when I don't come out, and I bet he'll grab our pack too, and then that will help me."

"But- but- are you sure?"

"I'm certain, Em. Just leave me here and go by the mouth." I reluctantly follow her instructions after picking up my bloodstained knife blade, waiting as long as I can before removing my pressure on her stomach. My muscles ache from all that time working and it feels like my hands are still pressing against something. They are also dyed red with blood.

I can see a lot at the mouth of the Cornucopia. Well, actually not that much, but I can see most of the forest and the lake, which should count as a lot. I bet basically everyone else is hiding in the forest, not Thresh of course, but Cato, Peeta and Katniss will. The Career camp, or maybe just Cato's camp now, is abandoned. So now I wait.

Hold on, what's that over there? I can see the first few rays of sunlight shining out and the plain before me sort of... vibrates, but only in that one spot. The ground in front of me splits in two and a rounded table complete with a snowy white cloth on top rises up from the hole. On the table are different-coloured backpacks with numbers on them. A tiny orange one marked with a number _12_. A large black one marked with the number _2_. And two medium-sized backpacks, a blue with the number _11_, and a green with a _5_ on it_. _That one's mine. I need to grab it right away.

Straight away, I dart out of the Cornucopia, grab my pack, slinging it over my shoulder, and speed off towards where I left my other pack in the woods. Nobody else comes out, so I must have astounded them with my tactics. Good. I don't want any of them on my tail. But I do hope that Rue will be okay.

Once I find my other pack I don't hang around, I head for my camp. I suppose it isn't much of a camp, really, being just a bush. More like a den, I guess. When I get to my 'den', the first thing I do is take a drink. I haven't had a drink in ages. Next I open up my green pack. I smile. There's a sleeping bag in there, just like I'd hoped. So now I need to eat. I clear the bush of all its berries and I'm about to eat a little when a cannon fires.

It's hardly surprising, as there's always someone who dies at a Feast. But who was it? I desperately hope it isn't Rue. I don't want to have been responsible for another death. Only a minute or two later there is another cannon. I shudder. There are only four of us left now, then. This is getting scary. The audience might be wanting a battle to the death soon. I don't think I'll be able to make it against three other people, who, unless if Rue's still alive, will all be bigger than me. I'll need to start planning a strategy for that now. I think I'll have to try staying out of the way while the others fight, then go for the final, hopefully injured, person once they're done. That's my only chance. And I'll also have to hope that it isn't a team left over. That's quite a lot of hoping involved there.

I eat a handful of the berries I have collected, but I instantly know that I'm going to need more food to keep up my energy. The past weeks I must have become extremely malnutritioned; like I said earlier, I'm a twig waiting to be snapped. Most of what I've eaten has been berries or apples, too, so I've got too much of one sort of nutrients and none of the others – maybe it's a good job I'm in the final four now, as in this state my body could pack in any day.

As I search and scour the woods for food – whether that's berries or nuts or whatever else I can find – I wonder, _why am I still trying? _I could end it myself any day I liked; get it over with, as painless as possible. I could even make it look like an accident, so I wouldn't be disappointing anyone too badly. No, I can't think like that. I have to get through this, I have to survive, I have to- wait, _why _do I have to? What will my life become if I get out of this? I'll have to guide a load of other District Five girls to most likely their deaths. I wouldn't wish being a tribute on anyone, not even Ainsley. Especially if I turn into another Lillian. I thought I liked her at first, but from the interview training onwards I changed my perspective on her. Now the idea of her seems to scare me, but I suppose everything starts to look scary when you're in the arena. But I still haven't really answered my question on why I'm so determined to live. Animal instincts, I guess. Why else would I have passed those seven poisonous berry bushes without a thought by now?

It's long into the day and I still haven't found anything else worth eating. Reluctantly, I decide to give up and head back to my den. Even _my _confused brain can't bleep out my hunger any more, and my stomach growls like some sort of wild cat. When I reach the den, I eat some of the oppoberries I collected much earlier today. I try to limit the supplies, but hunger wins out on me and I'm forced to eat them all. Yeah, of course you were 'forced', Medea. I hate myself sometimes. Now I'm still starving and I don't know what I'll be eating tomorrow. I'm dead. I take a long drink just for the sake of it.

But there's something I'm forgetting. What is it? Oh. _Oh. _It's my birthday. My 'sweet sixteen', as some idiots would call it. Happy birthday, Medea, here's your present! A sleeping bag and three opponents left to face! Not to mention a guilty conscience on everything that's happened for what remains of your life! How sweet is that? Perhaps I'd sing myself a birthday song if I knew one. Luckily, I don't.

I don't know what to do now. So I just sit. And stare. And twiddle my thumbs. The sky grows darker, so I will know who died today soon. The anthem plays and two faces appear one after the other. They have the same number beneath them. It's Rue and Thresh.

It's all my fault. It's all my fault. It certainly feels like it's all my fault. Because maybe they wouldn't both be dead now if I had been less careless in the Cornucopia. "I'm sorry, Rue," I whisper into the air. It may be my birthday now, but Rue shall never have another birthday again. She shall forever be twelve. I wonder if I shall forever be sixteen after today.

Very suddenly, the temperature plummets. Evidence that the whole arena is artificial, and totally within the Gamemakers' control. I shake the sleeping bag out of my green backpack before slowly crawling into it. The bag is a good brownish colour, and the material is extra thick so that I feel instantly insulated when I lie down in it. I'm glad for my small size now, because it means I can slide my head right under it and feel like a caterpillar just cocooned in its chrysalis, waiting to come out as something totally new. I wonder what new thing I shall emerge as.

* * *

_I lie in a field of daisies and the air smells of pine trees, a smell I've only learnt since I entered the arena. Wait, am I in the arena now? I sit up. No, I can't be, it's far too peaceful for that._

"_Where is this?" I ask into the air. A girlish giggle comes from behind me, but I can't see anybody there when I turn. Weird. "Hello?" I ask, "Who's there?"_

"_I am," says a voice I recognise, all too well._

"_Rue?" I frantically look about, "Rue, where are you?"_

"_Right here," she laughs and I see that she is now merely the size of my hand, and she flutters about through the air with pixie wings the same way she flew about the equipment in training. _She's alive! _yells my brain happily, ignoring the obvious._

"_You're alive!" I let out after thinking it, a smile creeping on to my face._

"_No I'm not," says Rue crossly and folds her arms._

"_But you are!" I call, oblivious to her anger._

"_No, I'm not!" Rue screams, and swoops right in front of my face, eyes like daggers. "I'm not alive, am I? Because _you _murdered me!"_

"_No, I- I didn't," I panic, "because you're right here."_

"_Yes, in a dream in your mind. I can't be in my own mind any more, can I? Now I'm stuck here and you've given me bleeding _fairy _wings! And you don't even want to _know_ what you've done to Thresh!" Just then a giant ogre steps out from nowhere, and it vaguely resembles Thresh._

"_Should we get her?" asks the beast._

"_Yup," says Rue._

_Then they both surge forwards and stab me in the stomach with their claws, their teeth, their anything, staining the daisies blood-red. I scream for them to stop, but they won't. I try to wake up, wake up, wake up, but it doesn't work. Until it does._

_I wake up in the forest within my sleeping bag. "Just another nightmare," I sigh with relief. That's when I hear the four-note tune Rue tried to teach me, and it doesn't leave a mockingjay's mouth. It leaves her own as her dead body lies beside me, but her lips still move, her voice still sings. The song summons the mockingjays, who sing along while pecking out my eyes and snipping away at the rest of my body._

_So I continue to dream, and my brain does the best thing it can do. Forget them in the morning._

* * *

I wake up about as refreshed as I possibly could be after being in this hellhole for so long. Though I can't ignore the strong, gnawing feeling of hunger amounting from my stomach. I need to go deeper in to the forest in my search for food, maybe even past the fifteen mile mark. But first I'll refill my water bottle, which I finished last night.

I pack up my sleeping bag and walk to my pool/pond – I'm not actually sure which you would call it – with my main purple pack in tow. The trip is reasonably short and not full of much event. First of all when I reach it, I cleanse my hands and knife blade of blood, then dunk my water bottle in. When the bottle is full, I take a few gulps from it and then stick it back under the water so it's full again. I'm being quite careless really, like the water will automatically be safe as long as I drink it from a bottle and not the actual source. But then again, what else can I do about it?

Then I trek off in the opposite direction. Walk, walk, walk. Don't bother to talk. Walk walk, walk. Nothing else rhymes. Actually, stalk does. But I'm not stalking anybody. Except possibly the trees. Hm, are trees edible? I could probably eat the bark... Yes! The bark! Why have I never thought of this before? I rush over to a pine tree and remove the knife blade from my belt. I strain to cut away the rough outer bark to get at the white-ish layer underneath. Then I scrape a small portion of this away and place it in my mouth. The chewy mix goes around and around in my mouth. Mmmm, tasty... As I swallow, I swear to myself that eating bark shall now be my last, last, last, last, _last _resort.

Hours must have passed now because the sun is high in the sky and it feels like the heat of the day – though knowing the Gamemakers, the _real_ heat of the day could come at any time. I thought I saw a berry bush a few times earlier, but whenever I ran up to it the berries would transform into leaves – the cruel work of the Gamemakers, teasing me. After a long while of walking, I hear a noise and dive behind a thick tree.

"Only because your leg's hurt," says a voice plainly. At first I think it could be talking to me, referring to my injured leg, but I shake away the silly thought. Who would be caring about me at this point?

"I know," says a second voice. "We need to split up. I know I'm chasing away the game." I know whom these voices belong to. The first, Katniss, the second, Peeta.

"Not if Cato comes and kills you," says Katniss. They banter for a while over whether to split up, and eventually Katniss gives in, but not without first showing him some stuff to look for. Roots, I think she said. Then she goes off to hunt. I watch her warily before creeping closer to where Peeta is. I seem to have an obsession with looking for only berries. I suppose they're easier to spot and to tell the difference between them than roots and such, though. Maybe my body has just had so much of them now that it thinks that's all it needs. All it wants.

Peeta casually digs his hands through the soil and whistles every so often when Katniss is worrywart enough to send him one. He makes a pile of roots beside a pack and a thin sheet of blue plastic lies by them. After a while, Peeta's gaze shifts from his task over to by the stream, which isn't very far away. I don't know what he's spotted, but it's important enough for him to brush clean his hands of as much dirt as possible. As he rushes over, his back turned to me, I take the opportunity to scavenge. Katniss has told Peeta these roots are safe, so I shall trust her judgement. I'm sure I could identify what they are on my own, but it doesn't seem worth the effort. I take a fair few from the pile and shove it in my pack before Peeta starts to return. He puts two handfuls of berries on the plastic sheet before returning to where he was. Perfect! I run up to the berries and scoop a sizeable amount, just low enough so he won't notice, and place them in my pack. Then Peeta returns with more berries, and the whole process repeats twice more. It's quite humourous the way he doesn't notice. On the last time, I hear Katniss whistle which gets no reply and I know it'll be my last chance, so I reach into their pack, find some cheese and take a good nibble so that the odds of them noticing will be around fifty/fifty.

Then I run as fast as I can in the opposite direction to where Katniss went earlier. I can hear her having a go at him from hundreds of metres away. Lovers' tiff? The audience will be lapping those two all up, I just know it. The star-crossed lovers of District Twelve. I mean, who _couldn't_ love them? Me. That's who. They are the enemy.

* * *

I run and run until I arrive all the way back at my den. I shall not be driven to bark tonight! Lovely roots and berries. And that cheese was just amazing while it lasted. I take a long drink before I eat and then pour out what I have 'accumulated' during the day on to my green pack. First comes out the berries. A nice deep purple. Then it's the roots. Nice and er... earthy.

I munch on the roots first. I suppose they are meant to be boiled or something, but even if I only have three people left to face, I'm not giving out my location with a fire. I'd never be prepared for any attacks. Before I know it, the roots are all but gone. I can eat, you can give me that. Better than the really rich girls in my district that starve themselves by _choice_. I mean, why would anybody do that? The feeling of hunger isn't enjoyable for anyone, surely? I've never understood that. I'll move on to the berries now. I pick one up and examine it closely. Katniss didn't tell Peeta to collect these. I doubt he knows what they are. I do now. So would Ivan if he were here. What did he say before the private sessions? _The only thing I can remember now is that some poisonous berry called nightlock is poisonous. _Yes, that's what he said. And then he died from one. Rose. Rose did that. And then _I_ did her. I hate nightlock. I throw away the berries in disgust and anger. I won't ever kill myself via these. I wouldn't _ever_. The thought of them makes me sick.

Because of all my thoughts on nightlock, I don't notice it right until it hits me on the head. A silver parachute. _Happy belated birthday._

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**Sponsor time! What could she have been sent?**

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	23. My Cannon Fires

**I updated! And quite quickly for me, really. Thanks to everyone that read my author's note last chapter and sent a tribute to my SYOT! It's now full! :-D But I'm going to try to finish this story before I get majorly stuck into that one. But check out this chapter's title! 0.0**

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Chapter Twenty-Three – My Cannon Fires

I scramble to open up the parachute. What treasure could it hold? Why has it only come now? I'm hoping for some sort of hot meal with everything I'll need to stay alive.

As I peel back the silver fabric, my face must be filled with disappointment. Because in front of me now is a plastic pot with maybe a dozen cherries in it. Yay for me. That's just what I wanted after all the fruit I've had to eat. What in the name of President Snow possessed Lillian to send me these? I mean, yes, the sponsor budget must be pretty low with me being... well, me, but surely there was something better than this to send. Still, food is food.

I try and hold out on eating any for ages. The anthem – showing no faces – has even passed by the time I give in; not bad going, I'd say. As I bite into the juicy flesh of the first one, I know that something is wrong. It doesn't taste quite like a cherry. In fact, I'm not even certain it is a cherry any more, because where there should be the its signature pip, there is just a lump of fruit. Plus, judging by the odd fuzzy feeling that flows through my body after I swallow, I think some form of drug has been injected into it. Do the Gamemakers know this? Is it even legal? The answer to both of these questions is most likely no. So whether she scares me or not, Lillian is clearly trying to help me one way or another – helping me enough to be breaking the rules – I just need to figure out what she wants me to do. After much thinking, I decide to just leave it until morning. The cherries are wrapped back up and put in the purple pack before I take out my sleeping bag and curl up to sleep in it. It is a restless night and now that I've caught up on fatigue, so have all my nightmares.

* * *

I wake up to find myself drenched in sweat as a blazing sun near-murders my eyes. I sliver out of the bag sleepily. How many more days of this will I have? So I feel a little cooler, I peel off my T-shirt to be just in my vest. As well as being hot, I'm thirsty, so I take out my water bottle and drink around half its contents; I'll have to refill it soon to get through this heat. I think I could actually die pretty easily otherwise.

I don't bother tidying up my sleeping bag but simply begin walking to my pool/pond with my bottle. Between the site of my den and where the water will be, I manage to empty my bottle. When I reach the pool/pond, I realise something. The pool/pond no longer exists. In its place is a soily dent. No. They can't have. They've drained it during the night. They want me to go to the stream or the lake. Wait... I bet they've drained the stream, too. Everybody knows exactly where the lake is, so everyone will know to go there for water. Then they'll be sure of a battle to the death. There's no arguing with it. I'll have to go. It's even more essential than going to the Feast was. In one last desperate attempt to find more water, I dive into the dent, scouring the ground for any moistness that could mean there is still some water to be found. I find no such trace.

But wait! There's something blue and almost palm-sized lying just in front of me. I can't tell what it is just yet, but I scamper towards it hopefully. Only when I realise what it is, it's too late to change my course of action. I've done exactly what the bug instructor told me not to do. You must never make sudden movements near an exhauri-bug. The Capitol made them to torture the rebels into giving information in the Dark Days, on a fake promise that they would administer an anti-venom. They'd drain all the colour from the victim, suck all the life force out of you until there was nothing left. They say it was agonising. And because the Capitol is so _nice, _they released them from the labs after the Dark Days ended to make homes wherever they felt like. Though the Gamemakers could well have put this here on purpose.

The small parasite leaps up from the earth and attaches itself to my left arm in the crook of my elbow. Its pincers sink in to my skin and I let out a howl of pain as it begins to burrow in. I shake and shake my arm to try to get it off but it merely helps it sink further into my arm. Oh, I'm dead. I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead! I leave my bottle and run as fast as I can back to my den, letting my infected arm flail behind me – if I use my muscles it will likely hurt more.

I reach my den after a few minutes of running and to my horror when I look to my arm I can see it's already begun, and progressed pretty quick, too. From my fingertips to halfway up my forearm, the skin has turned blue. I poke the affected areas and feel what I expected – nothing. I start to cry from the pain that slowly creeps up my arm and the fact that this shall not be a fun experience at all. I feel more scared than ever before in my life. Because now I'm going to have to make one of the most dreadful decisions of my life so far. To die a slow, painful death, or painfully saw off my arm, which could lead to death anyway from blood poisoning, mere loss of blood, an infection... The prospects aren't all that good in either case. But I can't just give up. I have to try. So that is why I reach into my purple pack and remove the knife blade. _Be thankful it's serrated_, I tell myself.

As I take out the blade the parachute gets stuck on it, but I don't worry about that because I'm in a rush. I have minutes at the most before it's too late to do anything. I crawl deep into the bush because I don't want the cameras to see just how scared I am doing this. My hand shakes and my teeth chatter wildly. No, keep your cool. You need to be as calm as you can for this.

I struggle to unhook the parachute from the knife with just one hand, and the cherries end up spilling out. I don't care. Why would I care now? Of course, I'm not even sure they _are _cherries, but still. Actually, the cherries could be a good thing, something to distract me while I conduct the 'operation'. I quickly grab about six or seven and shove them in my mouth, which then starts to chew. A fuzzy feeling again flows through me as I pick up the knife and make the first cut inline with my armpit. At least I've only got the vest on, and I don't have to mess about with sleeves. The strange thing is, with this fuzzy feeling I've got, it doesn't feel like I'm sawing through my arm at all. It's as if it's happening to a different person, because it stops me feeling the blade at all. Maybe Lillian knew there would be one of these bugs, and that it would bite me, knew that the 'cherries' would help. But how? I can't think, my mind's too foggy and I'm in one of those 'out-of-your-body' experiences, because it feels like I see myself, my dirty face, slightly crazed expression, all the scars, bruises and mud that it shouldn't be possible for me to see. Like I said, it's happening to a different person.

Eventually, the person's arm just drops off, and right in time, too, because the blueness was almost reaching the cut. She stares at the blue arm, dead on the ground, in frightened awe. _Did I just do that? _reads her face. _Is that really my arm? _The blood on the cut clots extra quickly because of the drug she's been given, and then she returns to herself quick enough to hear... a cannon.

As the blood clots, I hear a cannon fire and jump up straight away, my head breaking through the bush. I look about me, expecting to find... what? The killer? The dead body? But I don't see either. Then something clicks in my head. It can only be one of four people. Me, Katniss, Peeta or Cato. Peeta and Katniss and Cato will be too far apart at this point to have killed each other yet. Peeta and Katniss were holding well enough yesterday, so they can't have died of injuries. Cato will be fine. And they won't have sent out killer mutts having already pulled the water trick. So that leaves one person. Me. My cannon fired.

The Gamemakers must read our pulses via the trackers they put in our left arms before the Games. I'm guessing the cannon automatically fires after they don't receive a pulse for so long. And I've just sawn off my arm. The Gamemakers made a mistake at last.

Because Medea Travex is still alive.

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**You know how I normally have some random comment at the end of chapters? I got nothing.**

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	24. Mutts and Nightlock

**Hello! I haven't died :-) My laptop has just been dying a bit lately because it needs a new battery. And I've been zigzagging between the end of this story and the start of my SYOT, so I apologise for the long wait on this.**

**First of all: Thank you to everybody who has been reviewing and favouriting and following this story. I forget to say it sometimes, but it means so much!**

**Second of all: This is the penultimate (second from last) chapter! So I guess I'll leave you guys to it now :-)**

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Chapter Twenty-Four – Mutts and Nightlock

They know they've gone wrong. They know. The amount of cameras they've got, they can't possibly have missed where I jumped straight up after my cannon fired. But a gut feeling tells me they won't have aired it. They don't want Panem to know what a mess they've made. Probably just hoping I'll die off on my own. Well, fat chance, Gamemakers. No way am I giving up that easily! I'll just pretend I don't know maybe, act all surprised when I see the three others all alive and make it look like I've just figured it out. Maybe I'll wait 'till they announce the victor and then creep up behind them to stab them in the back. What a brilliant show the Capitolites would have then. Not to mention President Snow. Bet they won't tell _him _about this mishap.

I look to my tiny stump of an arm which has started to sting, really badly. Well, dur it'll sting! What are you expecting it to do? I crouch back down in my little den and attempt to get the first aid kit out from my pack with only one hand, and then bandage up what remains of my left arm. It's very hard, especially when my brain keeps thinking my left arm's still there. It's weird, but I can still feel it and everything, despite the fact it is no longer a part of me. What annoys me most is that I can't scratch that itch on my invisible wrist.

I awkwardly slip on my T-shirt and pack up all my things in my purple pack except the sleeping bag – I have a feeling I won't even get the chance to use it again. Carrying the pack is the hard part. I've been slinging it through both arms, but this obviously isn't possible now. I take a short while figuring out what I'll do about it, and eventually settle to put the right strap over my right arm and the left over my head and around my neck; it's uncomfortable, but it'll have to do. Then I set off.

I walk slowly and in the shade – no point in tiring myself out for no good reason. I'll bet the Gamemakers are making the cameras follow me around so they know where I am. Theoretically, they could just bring something on to kill me at any point, but they don't. Perhaps they think the easiest way to deal with me is to leave me be and then make me do re-enactments or something when the arena opens to the public. Or maybe they want to use me and pretend it's some great twist they've made up. I truly don't know – there are so many possibilities.

It's surprising how soon I arrive at the edge of the woods considering my speed. I've barely noticed the time passing, but looking up at the sun it can't be far from midday now. I peer around a tree to get a good look at the lake. Nobody there. But could they be hiding? I scan the area for any tributes, but give up, because if somebody's there then they're there, not likely they'll be moving any time soon. I shrug and casually walk over to the lake at a normal pace. If I die now, at least I can have the satisfaction of knowing I've died twice. Not many people can say that. Nobody can say that. Except me.

Sitting cross-legged by the lake, I allow my water bottle to fill itself up by floating about in the water. Nobody comes. There is not a hint that there could even be any people here. But I know there are; somewhere. When I have my water, I fasten on the lid and place it back in my pack. There's a strange feeling inside of me telling me to just jump into the lake. I do not resist the impulse. At least I can be clean, and it's cooled me down a lot.

Now what? Back to the forest, I suppose. So I go back to the forest to hide. And wait. For something. The sun has dropped a fair bit. Not all that much, but a fair bit all the same. My clothes and hair are bone-dry by the time Cato comes out. I can tell he's injured by the way he runs to the lake, only it's hard to tell exactly where because he tries so hard to hide it. He fills up his three water bottles at lightning speed, before zooming back off to where he came. Huh. That doesn't seem very Cato-ish. Apart from the three water bottles – that's _very_ Cato-ish. My guess is he's preparing for whenever Katniss and Peeta make it here.

I barely move for hours, except for the occasional sip of water. The sky is just about transitioning from afternoon to early evening when they come out. What took them so long? Peeta and Katniss warily step out into the open, looking all around. I stay still as a brick, though I doubt they'd be able to see me here in the undergrowth even if it were still midday. They cautiously walk over to the Cornucopia and peer into it. What are they doing? Are they expecting to find someone there? Katniss takes a few steps into it, I'm guessing to check round the corner, but then rushes back out, her face paler than when she went in.

"Peeta..." I can barely hear her say, "I think somebody... _died_ in there..." She's seen Rue's blood. A sudden stab of guilt overtakes me. That was my fault.

Peeta wraps his arm around her. "It's alright, Katniss," he says, but then pauses. "Cato wasn't in there, though, was he?" Katniss shakes her head. "Come on, let's just get to the lake..." They start to walk over, but Katniss stops them.

"But Peeta..." she starts, "what if it isn't even Cato? What if it's Em?"

Peeta opens his mouth but then closes it again. He speaks after a minute, "I guess we'll just have to find out..."

Oh. Right. They don't know. Wait, I'm pretending I don't know either, aren't I? Whoops, forgot about that. I narrow my eyes now as if I'm confused, then widen them and open my mouth like I've caught on. I look back and forth between the stump of my arm and the two lovers heading for the lake. Then I smile and give a silent laugh as if it's some great joke. I even wave to the sky smugly.

All is peaceful for a while. Peeta and Katniss fill their bottles, drop some iodine into them and sit by the lake. Katniss sings Rue's song – the one that she tried to teach me – and at least a dozen mockingjays begin echoing it back. More guilt. A single tear drips down my face. It's my fault Rue died, it has to have been. And now if I want to win, it might mean making it my fault Katniss and Peeta die. Do I deserve to win? Do I really _want_ to win? Winning doesn't mean living. Winning means surviving. Does the girl with the fiery hair _really_ want to survive?

It's funny, I haven't thought about that pet name my father gave me in... forever, it feels. He called me that... I don't know how many days ago. But it must be about three weeks. Three weeks... three weeks since District Five... I have to get back there. I just have to. I can't die here. I have to die at home. I have to die where I _belong._ And that's most definitely not here.

_Then the mutts come._

The mutts snarl and growl and bark. I can sense Cato running from them, not that far from me. There's so many, and don't seem to be of any particular design; the mutts, ironically, really are mutts – giant dogs. Some have black fur, others' is practically white. Some are massive, and others much smaller. There are different coloured eyes, too. Green, brown, blue, hazel, grey, amber... Amber... Amber eyes like mine. And fiery fur the colour of my hair. And it's the second-smallest. And it has a collar with the number _5_ on it. And it looks more like a fox than a dog... Oh my gosh. They've tried to make them look like the tributes. And this one... is me.

I don't have time to figure out a course of action, I just go on an immediate instinct. So I find myself lying face-first in the dirt. I can feel the vibrations of the muttations all about me. Some of them must be out of the forest by now. Two of them come right by my head, but they aren't after me. They're after the others. I can hear their shouts that alert me that most, if not all of the strange mutt-dog-wolf-tribute things have to be out, but I don't get up for another few seconds. When I do, I see all the mutts – there must be twenty-one of them – surrounding the Cornucopia, where Cato, Katniss and Peeta are scrambling up it. They really are ignoring me. They think it's a waste of effort to even send them after me. Well, I guess it is a waste when it can't be long before I die of hunger anyway.

I recognise every mutt jumping at the golden horn. The most noticeable one is Thresh's, just because of its sheer size. Then I see two much smaller ones, almost side by side. The larger of the two has light fur that practically rests in ringlets, and the other's is dark – glossy – and the creature somehow manages to look almost dainty. Ivan and Rue. And then fighting to tear at some flesh on the other side of the horn is another large mutt. Mousy-grey fur. Angry hazel eyes. You can even tell it's struggling with one of its hind legs. Raven. I miss the _real_ Raven.

I watch them fight. Katniss shoots at them with her arrows. One hits Cuthbert Number One. Another Marvel. As she and Peeta climb higher towards the end of the horn where Cato already rests, I see her take out Rose. I actually can't help but feel relieved that she hasn't aimed for the mutt versions of Raven or Ivan. I _know_ she'd never aim for Rue's. After a minute, I can't bear to watch, and turn around and lean against a nearby tree. My eyes close tight shut and get my hands to cover my ears. Then I remember that my left arm isn't really there, and stretch my right arm over so the hand covers my left ear and the forearm my right. It does block out the noise a little, but also adds on a deep rumbling that feels like a foreshadowing telling me something bad is going to happen. I suppose something bad is always going to happen out here. I don't know how long I'm sat here, but I hear the unmistakeable boom of a cannon fire.

I jerk my body round to see what's happening. It's very dark now, but I can just about make out the mutts bounding into a newly formed hole in the ground. Katniss dangles over the Cornucopia's edge, but Peeta yanks her up by the legs. After a few moments, they get down and walk away. A hovercraft arrives to pick up Cato's body.

Well. They've won, then. Any minute now, Claudius Templesmith is going to either tell them they've won, that the rule has changed back, or that I'm still alive. I'm not sure which to hope for. Katniss picks up an arrow lying dead on the ground, and jumps at the booming voice overhead.

"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games," Claudius Templesmith's announcing voice lets out. _Clever, _I think, _not saying the number remaining, just in case. _"The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour." A burst of static. Nothing. You can see the realisation dawning on Katniss and Peeta's faces. They were never going to let them both win. They both really bought into it. I didn't. I suppose I didn't really get the chance to be able to, though. There was no hope of being one of two victors to cloud my judgement.

Peeta pulls a knife from his belt. Katniss loads her only arrow. Peeta raises his eyebrows as his knife already lies discarded within the lake's murky waters. I begin to edge around the forest so I'm closer to them. Once one of them dies, I'll need to be ready for killing the other. Really? I'm _actually_ thinking like that? If someone said to me a month ago that these would become my thoughts, they'd likely have ended up with a kicked-in shin.

Katniss has dropped her weapons and steps back. Peeta pleads with her to shoot him, but she's stubborn that she won't. Peeta rips a bandage from his leg and blood starts to flow out. Katniss kneels down by him, frantically trying to put it back over the wound, telling him he can't kill himself for her. Peeta says that it's what he wants, and that they must have a victor. At those words something changes in Katniss' expression. She stops with Peeta's leg and her hands instead rush to a pouch on her belt. What? What is she doing?

"No, I won't let you," Peeta says, a hand clamping on her wrist.

"Trust me," I see Katniss mouth, because she must be whispering it. Peeta lets go of her arm after a moment, and Katniss places a handful of some sort of berry into his palm. Then she puts another handful in her own. Then I realise what they are. The deep purple hue... the egg-like shape... nightlock berries. Suicide. Very clever. They figure that the Gamemakers would rather have two victors than none at all. Whether it'll work is another thing entirely, especially with me here.

They both stand up back-to-back and hold out the berries so the cameras can clearly see. Their free hands interlock and their eyes close while they prepare to count to three. This is my only chance. I have to remind the Gamemakers they have a choice. Not between having two victors or no victor, no. They'll have to decide whether it's better to have two victors who have completely demolished the rule book, or one victor that is supposed to be dead. I stagger a guess at what sort of shot they'll want to be showing the audience right now, and charge on to the plain so I should appear in it. I'm a safe distance away from Katniss and Peeta, but surely unignorable to the Gamemakers – they might even have accidentally got me on tape, while they're screening to the whole of Panem. Can't ignore me now. My heart beats hard, thumping against both sides of my ribcage. Katniss and Peeta are up to three. They press the berries to their lips and they enter their mouths. _Please, _I beg, _choose me._

I know the Gamemakers can control the whole situation entirely. If they want two victors, they can just blow me up and yell for Katniss and Peeta to stop. If they want one victor, they can merely allow Katniss and Peeta to continue with their suicide. Either way, the 'star-crossed lovers' that everyone so _loves_ shall be together. And either way at least one of the Gamemakers is likely to be executed.

The next few seconds pass like decades. I don't know what they'll choose. I close my eyes, bite my lip and pray and hope and use all my power just to will it to be me.

I hear a cannon.

Then another.

Neither is mine.

So I'm alive.

I'm... the victor.

I open my eyes and then there are trumpets blaring throughout the arena. I try not to look at the two bodies lying crumpled on the ground only metres away. But I can't help it. They may not appear as my kills on the statistics board, but that doesn't mean it isn't my fault they're dead. Claudius Templesmith's slightly flustered voice breaks into the otherwise silent arena.

"Uh... congratulations to the victor of the Seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games!" he booms, "Err... I give you – Medea Travex, female tribute of District Five! You came out of nowhere!" That I did. And so does the hovercraft. It materialises above me and drops the ladder which I know will be electrified. I place my only hand on a rung, along with my right foot, and the current freezes me in place.

It's more unpleasant than I remember it to have been when we left for the arena, but maybe it's because now I'm injured, tired, hungry, and looking down at the ground which gets further and further away from me. I feel I might throw up. When the door opens after the ladder is sucked up, the electricity is released and I actually do. The men and women around me back away as I vomit once, twice, three times and all that comes out is the vile burning liquid your stomach uses to digest food. They wait 'till they think I'm done before seizing me and two people walk me into some strange white room.

"Sit down," says the woman, and I end up obeying, parking myself on a glass bench. I find myself panicking, because how could something be so white, so pure, so clean after the arena? This has to be a trick. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. Or maybe I'm not dreaming. Maybe this is a cruel twist of the Gamemakers. A man asks if I want a drink and I push him straight over not because I'm strong, but simply because he didn't expect it. I run towards the place I entered the room, but there's no door there now, just wall. So I run to the next corner. I pass no door. Next corner. No door. Next corner. No door. Next corner. Still no door. Next corner. No door. And I know there are only four corners, but can't help running about frantically because my frazzled brain can't reason with doing anything else. The man and woman who spoke to me earlier give me a bewildered look at first, but leave me be. We all know I'm not going anywhere. I just can't accept it.

Eventually, I simply fall into a corner from exhaustion, resting in the foetal position. After a while, the woman walks over to me.

"Hello, Medea," she says in her awful Capitol accent, made all the worse by the fact she's talking like I'm stupid. I'm not stupid. If I'm still here I'm not stupid. _She's_ probably stupid. If she went in I bet she wouldn't end up here. "Now, I'm going to ask you a very important question." I merely glare at her. She glances back at the man, "Is she even sane enough to say something?" The man shrugs.

"If she's not it doesn't matter, we only have to ask for all the legals." The woman nods, and turns back to me.

"Listen, Medea, we have to ask you this-"

"So ask me already," I growl, making the woman back away a little, but she quickly recovers her composure.

"Right. Do you want the Capitol to give you a new replacement arm?"

"No. I don't want a new stinking arm!" I say, not even realising I'm yelling until I notice the woman's shocked expression as she trots away. I stay in my little corner for the rest of the journey, staring out at the two aliens that stare back at me with both fear and disgust showing in their eyes.

A man wearing a white doctor's coat walks in through an opening wall with a gigantic needle and I cower away. He comes up to me and I'm so tired I can't even bring myself to try to get away. He sends an odd green liquid into my arm and almost instantly, everything turns to blackness.

* * *

**So we have a victor! And a sequel is planned now! Well, actually I've been thinking about it for quite a while, but if I told everybody that might have given away the ending :-P**

**I love reviews from you wonderful, wonderful people who shall ALL be thanked personally next chapter! (Expect a pretty long author's note :-P)**

**I really hope you liked this chapter! :-)**


	25. It Begins

**No, I haven't died! Sorry this took so long! I kept getting really stuck on it, and then there was school and such and bleurgh... But I really am sorry! I got so stumped I made a new cover while thinking of what to do. I even started the first chapter of the sequel, which then makes no sense. So sorry if some of this is word vomit. And some bits seem a bit implausible, but that's my crazy mind that came up with half this stuff in May, and my mind's wandered since then.**

**Anywaaaaay... I hope you enjoy this despite the long wait! I shouldn't ever take this long again for anything, I hope!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five – It Begins

I'm worried as Tobias tells me to close my eyes. I'd say I'm scared, but I'm not. I didn't know the meaning of the word before that morning of the reaping. I gradually discovered the definition.

Soft, fluffy material is wrapped around me. It's a dress, but unusually heavy for one, even if just by a smidge. The outfit clings to my body tightly in its exact shape, which has scarcely avoided major surgery – apparently permission is needed for artificial limbs, but not for them to jumble about straightening and whitening your teeth, or breaking your toes so they don't curve inwards, or altering your cheek muscles so you strain to get out of a sideward-smirk. They would have changed my hips, waist and breasts too if I was taller, only they plan on giving me growth hormones first, or else it won't 'go right'. I've heard where they get those from. Taken from the brains of children. Can't be adults, because adults have used it all up by the time they're full-grown. I don't want to have bits of... kids in me. For all I know, they could come from my fellow tributes. Not that I could ever find out, of course, with my prep team – green with envy from my 'full body polish' – gobble, gobble, gobbling about all the amazing things they did whilst watching children murder. It makes me sick.

"...And I think we're done!" Tobias declares, answered by delighted squeaks from the prep team. "Open your eyes now!"

"Do I have to?" I ask.

Tobias snorts. "Don't be so ridiculous! I can tell you're _dying _to see yourself!" Dying. I was a few days ago.

My eyes reluctantly open to spy my reflection in the mirror. I wear a furry dress that doesn't cover nearly enough – my bum cheeks would likely be visible if I sat down. My shoes have fur all over them too, and are those flat-soled ones with no tongue that easily slip off. My hair flows out in a red mane, going partway down my back. The costume fur and my hair almost match exactly in colour. I didn't think it would be anything like this. There's even a pair of ears sticking off my head band. And if I reach behind... yup, there's a tail; it bounces back up into a wavy position if I try to pull it down. Shall I ever escape this nickname?

Tobias gasps. "Breathtaking," he says, "fur is definitely coming back in fashion!" Unlike dignity.

Tobias takes me back to the lift which goes up until we're at the floor where we did our original training. I remember all the faces that once came here but now never will again. A lot of them deserved to much more than me – no, all of them. I am lead into a room I have never seen before. In the centre is a metal plate extremely similar to the ones that lift tributes into the Arena. This one feels worse than those.

With this one you're supposed to know exactly what you're getting. That means when you don't get what you expect it's more confusing. With the Arena you _expect _twists and turns everywhere, so they aren't that surprising. Here I don't. The mindset that I'm safe now refuses to budge, simply because I'm tired of being on edge. I'll only get through this if I relax.

"I need to get ready!" Tobias trills excitedly, "But I think Lillian will be coming in before the show starts!" He squeals again as he dashes off somewhere to get ready for his entrance. Well, I suppose he hasn't ever been stylist for a victor before.

I sigh and sit down awkwardly on the plate. As I should have known, the dress goes up as I bend and my bottom gets a massive chill without extra fabric for insulation. I should have asked for thicker underwear if I'm stuck with this dress.

How long will Lillian be? I haven't seen her since that final night before the Games. It must have been almost twenty minutes of thumb-twiddling before she comes in. When she does, she's beaming ear-to-ear.

"Well done!" she cries, throwing herself around me, "Our plan worked!"

"Plan?" I growl, "What plan? We never made a plan!"

Lillian looks confused, letting go and stepping back, "What do you mean 'what plan'? _The _plan. We've always had the plan."

"From the moment we met on the train 'till now, you've never spoken of a plan."

"Didn't need to, did I? We already started it!" I don't like how this is going. This is just... out of the blue, whatever this even is. Lillian is mad. Somehow she hid this behind a cool, collected persona. I miss that Lillian. But it seems she wasn't even real. If only Saint were my mentor. He's saner than this.

"What?" is all I can muster.

"It started in the Fifty-eighth Games, right? When I won. On the eleventh of June. When you were born – I checked the registers. So you'd have to be special. I knew you'd be the next one from Five to win – and you'd win when you were sixteen, too – like I was."

"You're talking like destiny. There's no such thing." Lillian ignores me and I miss some of what she says.

"-fixed the Reaping-"

"You _fixed the reaping?_" I yell. I hope these walls are soundproofed. Lillian shoots me a glare meaning 'be quiet' before carrying on. How can this make sense to her?

"...That's why I fixed the Reaping. Of course, you were fifteen then, but the Games always last for so long, and we couldn't wait another whole year, could we?" A brief pause. I don't know what to say so I leave it alone. "And so you learnt the wrath of the Capitol, I planted Avox clothes in with those ill-fitting ones on the train. That gave you a good scare, so you'd know all the seriousness." It did? "And then I drugged the Gamemakers in your private session so they would give you a low score." Lillian must be lying about all of this, she must be. Although, the Gamemakers _did _look rather subdued when I went in. And the door closing... was that Lillian leaving? But how did she even get in there? "I made sure you were cunning for the interview, so you could play up that whole 'fox' thing." She looks over my outfit. "And that clearly worked. You made it harder in the Arena, of course, faffing around with Saint's little wimp and that useless boy from Ten-" At that moment I snap.

"Ivan is not a wimp and Raven is not useless!" I yell once again. Yeah, they'd better have soundproofed these walls. I retreat slightly. "I mean, they _weren't. _They _weren't _those things." Lillian stops for a second, but then continues on like nothing happened.

"It was also awkward with that whole Eleven and Twelve affair, but at least you severed it pretty quickly. That left the final stage of the arm. Sending the serum to stop you losing too much blood was tricky, but I knew I could only hide it in food. As so much of your diet had been fruit, I knew to send you some would raise your suspicion and know they must have another use than to help your hunger. After that, exhauri-bugs often make their nests by ponds, so we had a bit of luck for you to find one, but I always knew you would anyway. I never doubted you. You _had _to pull through. It was your _destiny_." Destiny? Destiny isn't pre-decided. Destiny is what you make it.

Something in Lillian's Games must have really messed her up. Or maybe she's always been messed up. Right now she's sick. _Sick. _Who am I kidding? Everything's sick in this sick, sick world.

There's only one thing I can do right now. My fist is slamming into my mentor's jaw within a fraction of a second. "Just get ready, Lillian," I bark through gritted teeth, my muscles all tensed with fury, "go _now." _I'm surprised when she actually agrees and walks away, while my mind is left reeling with thoughts of what's happened. I only come to when I hear the voice of someone I've seen many times but never actually met. I forgot he was even in the Capitol with us, because he keeps to himself so much. Well, if I was a victor but not mentoring, I suppose I would as well. So why is he here now?

"Medea," says Emmett Roscoe, wandering over to me, "I know you've been through a lot." His words feel rehearsed. Perfectly tailored to do what they must, but avoiding trouble at the same time. Wait... trouble? ...Oh. I bet they have cameras everywhere. How could I be so stupid as to forget that? While I've been worried about soundproofed walls, the Capitol's likely been taping mine and Lillian's entire conversation, which includes her admitting to fixing the reaping and drugging the Gamemakers. Doesn't bare well for either of us. To hear her tell it, I was in on the whole thing. Emmett's aged eyes lock on hard with my own. "Well done for making it this far," he says before placing either hand on my shoulders. He pulls me in for a hug, and I don't resist, even though it feels so random and alien. I don't even know him. I haven't even _met _him. His lips are swooping by my ear and whispering eight short words, clothed in my hair, "Be careful. This is only where it begins." Then he disguises it as a peck on the cheek before zooming out of the room at a speed no seventy-year-old should be able to master.

Something beginning at what's meant to be the end. Something worse than the Games? I guess we'll find out.

* * *

I'm watching the highlights. I don't want to. I don't want to watch it all again. I was hating that moment five minutes ago when I had to twirl around and show off my ridiculous outfit; according to Caesar Flickerman, fur looks amazing on me – yeah, right. Now I long to go back to that time when I wasn't watching this. The whole of Panem is right now. But then they're watching me as well, in the corner of the screen on the stupid, frivolous Victor's chair. A lot of shots it looks more like a photo rather than a live feed; I'm frozen stiff.

They start with the Reapings. It goes from One through to Twelve, only skipping out Five until the end to play it in full. My 'hopefully reassuring' smile to Myra I put on there has practically become a trademark – and it's the reason I can barely keep my face straight, as somehow they altered the way my cheek muscles work so they rest in that odd, sideways smile unless I really stretch them, like I do now. When Ivan mounts the stage, it's as clear as I've remembered it. Shaking hands thrust in pockets, tears brimming in eyes, the eventual pour-down in the middle of the stage. They show the two of us shake hands – focusing the camera mostly on me – before cutting to the chariot rides. Same as it was, showing all the districts and then blabbering on about District 12's entrance – though they've edited it so there's some more attention on Ivan and me. You're not fooling anybody. Well, maybe the people in the Capitol. Fine, rephrase; you're not fooling anybody with half a brain.

Next they have the training scores. Quick comments on a few, including how I may be 'keeping my talents hidden', and they _have _to include their surprise at Katniss obtaining an _11. _Now for the interviews. I look so much younger in mine. Feels like I acted much younger too – I was calling Katniss 'Steal-a-name-niss' at that point. I don't care if she stole my name now at all. I'll never be known as 'the girl with the fiery hair' any more, even to myself.

In the Arena I watch people die. I grip the arms of the chair tight as Cuthbert Number Two gets a sword through the heart, Talia decapitated, Hunter literally backstabbed. Ivan receives that spearhead to the calf just running away, yet somehow Rose collects a backpack unscathed. Nothing of what I see greatly surprises me – except one thing. Raven told me he got his pack from a dead guy. He never mentioned how he killed that guy himself. Though I suppose I never mentioned about how I _murdered_ his district partner. Speaking of which... they're doing it now.

"Oh! Let me do it so it's quicker!" Rose snatches the berries from the girl's hands and spurts the juice into Ivan's mouth. The life drains out of him, his eyes going blank, and the girl is frantically slapping his cheeks in a vain attempt to wake him.

Rose stands in indifference while the camera focuses in on the girl's expression. There's something broken at that point – snapped. Fire in her eyes; a raging ball of madness. She's become some sort of wild, feral creature. Seconds later and it's her first kill made. She's left there in shock at her actions as cannons start to fire. They show the girl meeting with Raven as well as showing brief clips of other tributes. Then it's faces in the sky, the close encounter with the Careers, the girl collecting water and watching Cuthbert Number One, just before they show the murder of Megan Crimson in extreme detail. It was Peeta in the end. Just metres away from Katniss hiding in a tree.

It shows the red-haired girl panicking at the cannon fire, but skips to later, showing every tribute getting along with little problem. Cue the fire.

When she runs into it, she appears much calmer than I thought she was at the time. She throws water over herself like she's planned this her whole life, running through it simply. It's a little funny to see the jacket – so long on her at first – deteriorate to barely a shawl. Most of the others run from the fire too; Silas is even burnt to death. They make the girl's and Katniss' time by the pool last just seconds before the girl climbs her tree, warns Rue about tracker-jackers and falls asleep. I find out that Rue warns Katniss, who later drops the nest on Glimmer and the rest.

The girl finds Raven not much later going by screen-time, they have a good snog, and then not long after, he dies. I force myself to feel nothing. There are prickles in my eyes and my cheek has been bitten into the next century.

I discover the girl isn't too shabby at acting when they show her by the supplies. She truly does look sneaky hinting at Katniss that the pyramid is mined and that she has to shoot at it and blow them up. Not that I remember her acting much at that particular stage.

Then the girl teams up with Katniss. She appears manic as she walks steadily towards where _I_ know, but she doesn't, Marvel will be. She crazily jumps upon him, knife blade in hand, at the same moment Katniss fires an arrow at him. It doesn't hurt where it hit any more – I haven't any scars at all, unless you count the whole missing-an-arm thing as a scar. Yeah, maybe you would. I suspect that if I already had some scars that they'd be gone too, only my only previous scar was on my left elbow. I still feel my left elbow, and whole arm. Brains are silly like that. They can't comprehend that one of your limbs has disappeared, and so compensate by make it _feel _like it's still there. If it wasn't for that, our brains would be telling us how to grow it back.

As Marvel's throat is slit, in the girl's eyes you can see so is some of her sanity. Some of his blood dries on her nose and stays there until the water, when Clove dips her head in and out, as well as making it bleed from the knife's sharp blade.

Rue clings to Thresh's back as he swims away – just about – to a particular part of the field where the crops are taller and seem stronger. Cato and Clove make it over but Thresh grabs Clove, dunking her underwater while Rue holds her breath to tie the crop around her legs, too tough for Clove to wriggle free from, so she drowns. Cato doesn't even try to help her, but merely observes Thresh. That's when the water begins to lower and Cato is swept far away from Thresh and Rue. Suppose they just didn't want to have all the drama in one go.

For the next day it's just clips of Katniss and Peeta. Guess their whole couple thing was popular enough to reshow, even if they didn't win. Of course, then they announce the Feast and those two get all dramatic about it while the others just get on with what they're doing. The amber-eyed girl needs a sleeping bag.

They show her running into the Cornucopia, shivering from both the cold and from fear. I witness that Thresh didn't want Rue to risk the Cornucopia or the Feast at all, but she runs off anyway. My heart races because I know what's about to happen. Shadows creep around the girl and her face contracts until she simply charges forward blindly to attack the perpetrator. Then she realises it's her once-ally. She is filled with remorse. She slows down the bleeding and sings to Rue not too badly, but the song is a terrible choice. Running out at dawn, she grabs her pack and surprises them all in the process. Katniss runs out next, narrowly avoiding being killed by Cato, who gets distracted by Thresh. When Thresh seizes _11_'s pack and runs into the Cornucopia, Cato can't help himself and goes after the trapped prey. Thresh puts up a good fight but is eventually overpowered. Cato discovers Rue a few minutes later, so then she's gone too.

And then there were four.

Day after and the girl is looking for water. She somehow ends up sawing off her arm. The sound on the clip is distorted.

The final tributes make their way to the lake. The girl takes a dip in it, being the closest. Cato gets there next, quickly filling bottles. Lastly are Peeta and Katniss. They are chased up the Cornucopia by gigantic dogs, along with Cato. Cato is killed and the mutts run away. The girl moves round the edge of the woods to get closer to her opponents.

The older boy and girl threaten to commit suicide. And it isn't a bluff. They take the berries in their mouth just as the fox-faced girl jumps out, unavoidable. The 'star-crossed lovers' swallow and collapse on the ground.

"Uh... congratulations to the victor of the Seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games! Err... I give you – Medea Travex, female tribute of District Five! You came out of nowhere!"

Yes. That isn't just a random girl. That girl is me. I've been fooling myself. The girl on that film is me whether I like it or not. That _very edited_ piece of film. I could list what they've changed or missed.

Me skipping away from the Cornucopia. Me sitting Ivan up against the tree like he's asleep. Me locking eyes with Peeta so he doesn't give me and Raven away. Me later dragging Peeta to the stream in return. Me and Raven mouthing before he dies...

Of course there's been more omitted. They make it like I barely said a word to Katniss as we went to Rue. But the most obvious part was where I 'died'. It simply doesn't happen. Using bad quality footage they must have never aired, they make it appear that my sanity was so overtaken, I simply sawed my arm off for no good reason. Fake birdsong covered the sound on that part. Covered the cannon. Covered their mistake. And then they deleted any images of that small, reddish mutt with amber eyes, too.

Will anyone realise just how massively changed this is? In the Capitol I doubt it. They could announce the sky was green and we're all made of orange juice and they'd take it as infallible. The district people are a different matter... We have minds of our own more, at least most of us. Maybe that's why they removed anything that could _mean _something from the highlights. Risky for the Capitol, but this is unstable ground. Nobody's ever had the potential to die twice.

I'm walking on ice. A frozen pond I never meant to help create. Surely they must know that? But now it's like they're trying to make me retrieve something from it. A ball accidentally kicked on it. I may be rather small and light, but that doesn't mean I'm not enough to still plunge in. Enough to make a large splash. I'd better hope that ice will strengthen, and the ball rolls no further away.

But how? I hate metaphors.

* * *

I'm coming home. Right now, I'm coming home. The train speeds on.

Last time I was on here, I was scared of the Avoxes. Now I'd welcome them as friends. If they were here. I checked through the end of the train, but there's nobody there. Like I'd imagined it. Maybe I did. Maybe I imagined everything. Maybe this has actually all just been a dream; I haven't entered the Games, we're heading to the Capitol now and any minute Ivan is going to walk along and ask why I've been staring out this window for over three hours, clutching the metal frame with a white-knuckled hand. If he did I wouldn't answer. I'd more likely cry and he'd ask why and that would make me cry more. He was just a _kid._

_So was I._

The only reason I can't convince myself of this dream is because my arm's missing.

There are two less in our party now. Ivan. And Lillian. The last we saw her was at the party after the crowning ceremony. The president had to position it very carefully to avoid it falling off completely then. I didn't like the way he looked at me. I couldn't figure out what he could be thinking in the slightest, which was worrying. I normally have at least a hint.

Tyranny told us that Lillian had some 'very serious business in the Capitol' and said that she apologised she couldn't be travelling back with us. She also tutted her for this 'ridiculous display of manners', scolding her, despite her absence, for going as low as to make an Avox give her the note about it. Tyranny is oblivious to any of the suspiciousness of this, but then so is Saint, shoving his face in more cream-filled platters. What annoys me most is Tyranny now pretending to like me. Luckily, annoyances don't bother me much any more.

Emmett acts the same as on the train ride here. Inconspicuous, staying inside his room the whole journey. Perhaps I should try disturbing him, but I don't see the point. There's nothing wrong with me staring out at the rain, is there? I'd stick my hand out if I could, if the train weren't so fast, feel the water droplets splatter my hand, the unsteady hits massaging my palm. The rain likely has acid in it. That acid will almost undoubtedly have come from District Five's power plants, which are looming over the horizon now.

Before I even know what's going on we're pulling in to the station in District Five. There's a crowd of people but all I see for the moment is my father and Myra. Even just these few weeks away from them has slightly distorted their images in my head. They are the only ones I want to see right now. They are the only ones I truly care about in the world.

When I charge into their arms, I cry. It isn't because I've missed them. It isn't because of the astonishingly eye-watering pollution I've only just discovered was here.

It's because I don't know how long I'll be able to stay here. Don't know if I _can_ stay here, safe. I am reminded of my dad calling me that stupid old nickname. Maybe he didn't think, didn't realise, when he came up with it. _Hair burns._

* * *

**And thus, after six months (I think?), this story ends. Thank you all you guys so much for supporting me through this! It's really just changed so much... at first I was pining for even one review... now it's the most reviewed Foxface story on the site :-) And that's all down to you guys! I love you all! :-D Just... just thanks so much to anybody who has ever added this story to favourites, alerts, or left a review! Now, here you all are by name (bear with me here):**

**AceAuthor**

**Aggression**

**aichd13**

**Anla'shok **

**annaissocoollike **

**alohazoegirl **

**AStitchedUpHeart**

**Black Wolf Zombie**

**blaqkroze13**

**Blue Cichlid**

**callie0612**

**CatoandCloveMeantToBe **

**charlieal12**

**CloveDiedForYourSins**

**Crazyllamapersonlol**

**CryptoGirl99**

**DarkStorm00**

**District11-Olive**

**DizzyPotter**

**DoYouBelieveInLove**

**DragonFan1512**

**DreamingDementor**

**Ellii101**

**Ember A. Keelty **

**Evo1235**

**Fantaa200**

**FireBreadandSnares**

**Foxhound47**

**Future Fantasy Writer**

**HannahBananaMcKenzie**

**Hermia Glenwick**

**hipsterhana **

**hungergamesf4n4tic**

**HungerWho37**

**ILoveMooseStepUpFreakPJOHoO**

**ILovePeeta0000**

**Innocent Primrose Everdeen**

**Isabella Katniss **

**julie662**

**junebugz21**

**kat-rue**

**Kid Justice In Pink**

**Kitkat1425**

**leecespieces **

**LightBlueRoses**

**mabeezy**

**MarbleSharp**

**maverick66**

**MissDizzyD**

**MtnDew26**

**nb1998**

**ObsessiveWeirdo**

**ohlookamockingjay**

**OwlMist**

**PurplePiecesPerfection**

**rcfeather**

**Rioshix**

**Romero63**

**ShaMol**

**SilverAquaTrident**

**silveropals**

** .watching**

**smiginti**

**tessa0710**

**Tessabelle94**

**The Phantom Mockingjay**

**TheEpicAlienGirl**

**TheGirlwiththeknife**

**TheRulerandTheKiller **

**TheShadowOfMySelf**

**TigreMalabarista**

**wisegirl1800 **

**WrittenWithPencils**

**xCaptainBlaze**

**Ya Its me**

**zep182**

**Zoeeliza123**

**Yay! I love you guys! :-D But you don't want to **_**know **_**just how long it took me to gather all your names up... And then I felt the need to alphabetise because I'm just like that. I really, really, really hope I haven't missed anyone off.**

**Hm. It feels weird that this is the end now. I've never ended a multi-chapter before... Huh. I guess I have now.**

**I can't say when the start of the sequel will be up, but just keep an eye out. And please rest assured that it will **_**not **_**just be a rip-off of Catching Fire with Katniss replaced. I've already got some **_**very **_**different ideas which may or may not end up coming in to play.**

**So... one last review? ;-)**


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